


Only Flying for a While

by electriclita



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Los Angeles, M/M, Musician Jensen, Switch Jared, Switch Jensen, Tattoo Artist Jared, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriclita/pseuds/electriclita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Jensen have been inseparable since childhood, growing from rascally kids to awkward teenagers to twenty-somethings figuring out their places in the world together. As Jensen's catapulted into the world of fame and fortune after the lucky break of a lifetime, he falls to the bottom of the bottle to cope. When his lifelong relationship with Jared explodes under the pressure, both of them are left picking up pieces of two lives that were never really meant to be separate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Supernatural & J2 Big Bang.
> 
> Art by the incredibly talented cherie-morte. Please check out the full [art post here](http://infatuated-ink.livejournal.com/101387.html)!
> 
> If you'd like something to listen to while reading, fic soundtracks are available via Spotify, [linked at my LJ](http://electriclita.livejournal.com/6632.html).

  
  


 

> _8 months: Jensen started crawling today, which wasn't a huge surprise given that he's been trying to for a few weeks now. What did surprise us is that instead of crawling toward me or his dad, he headed for the Padaleckis' son, Jared, and sat down with him to play with the mobile together._
> 
> _\- Donna Ackles, "Baby's First Year: Jensen Ackles"_

  

> _It's hard to talk about the story of Jensen Ackles' life without involving his best friend and partner, Jared Padalecki, in some way. The way they tell it, the two were inseparable from childhood and had never envisioned a future of one without the other._
> 
> _-J.P. Stuart, "Dark Blue: The Story of Jensen Ackles"_

Jared stands in front of the bathroom mirror, trying without success to flatten his hair.

"You know it doesn't really matter since you're putting a hat on anyway, right?" Jensen's voice sounds from behind as he steps up to nudge Jared to the side, careful enough not to knock him into the toilet in the tiny space.

"Yeah, but still. If I have bad hair before I put the hat on, does that make it twice as bad as when it comes off?"

Jared watches Jensen grin at himself in the mirror while he pulls his hair into spikes. "Shouldn't you be the one to answer that, college boy?"

"Oh, shut up," Jared grumbles, giving up on his hair. "You know you can't use that nickname anymore, right?"

"Sure," Jensen agrees easily. "But the ceremony's over at what, two? I've got a few more hours before I have to retire it. Then I can call you college _graduate_ boy."

A blush rises on Jared's cheeks as he fumbles with the closure on his graduation gown. Jensen does up the buttons on his own shirt while Jared gets his mortarboard on. When they face each other fully dressed, Jared's a little sad that this is Jensen's one nice button-down, that they're already running late, and a hundred other reasons why he can't just rip that shirt off and wrestle Jensen into bed, or even just put him into sweatpants and have a lazy day. Between Jared's final courses, capstone project, slinging coffee for his fellow students at Untitled twenty hours a week, seemingly endless full-time job search, and Jensen's frequent gigs at local bars on top of his managerial duties at Guitar Center, they've barely had any time together in the last year.

Something must show on his face, because Jensen leans up and pecks him on the lips. "Come on, Jay. Let's go meet up with your family and get you a degree."

"You know the one they hand you on stage is a fake, right?" Jared calls after Jensen's retreating back.

Jensen gets home late on a Friday night, acoustic guitar in tow. He sets it by the door and sheds his jacket before joining Jared on the couch, grabbing a tortilla chip from the bag Jared had discarded on the coffee table after his dinner.

"How'd the show go?" Jared slides down the couch to lay his head on Jensen's thigh, looking up at him from below.

"Pretty good. It wasn't as good as being at the Blue Whale—no piano for me tonight."

Jared makes a face. "You play like three nights a week at that stupid lounge, and you always come home complaining about the customers."

"The _clients_ ," Jensen corrects automatically and then makes a face of his own as he leans forward to grab the bag of chips off the table. Jared has to turn his face to the side to avoid getting squashed by Jensen's chest. "I should be playing every day if I want to make it in the big leagues. Anyway, I have news," Jensen says overly casually, trying not to drop chip crumbs on Jared.

"Oh?" Jared shrugs a little and turns onto his side, stretching his right arm out over the side of the couch to avoid their clothing.

"Hey, let me see this."

"What's your news?" Jared asks impatiently while Jensen takes his wrist to examine the freshly-inked tattoo on his forearm—the paintbrush, pen, and pencil neatly lined up together to commemorate his degree. Jensen's silent while he turns Jared's arm this way and that to examine every inch of the work. "Okay," Jared snatches his arm back and sits up, "it doesn't take that long to look at some outlines. What's the news?"

Jensen's eyes are shining mischievously and a little proudly in the light from the television. "A guy from one of the local record companies was at the bar tonight. That's kinda why I got home so late. He's taking a copy of my EP to work on Monday."

The sound that leaves Jared's mouth as he scrambles to throw his arms around Jensen isn't quite human.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" Jensen asks when Jared releases his hold a little. "Can we celebrate?"

"I don't, so yes." Jared kisses Jensen sloppily on the cheek before pulling back to take in all of Jensen's bright-eyed, flushed excitement.

Jared counts himself lucky that he was offered a full-time job before graduation, but a couple months in he's not so sure that lucky is the word he should've used. Maybe bored, since he's only painting sets for commercial shoots and it's pretty mind-numbing work. He's definitely frustrated at the commute—it's ridiculous how much traffic is on the roads even at four and five AM.

"I feel bad about it," he says over lunch with his friend Gen. "I mean, how many people from our class are actually using their degrees right now?"

She shrugs. "So what? Think about it this way: if you decide to leave, that's an opening for someone else. Probably someone more competent than some of the asshats we graduated with."

"And that's why I keep in touch with you instead of those 'asshats.' So how's your job going?"

"Oh you know, crap pay, terrible hours, treated like dirt, the usual." Gen stabs her burrito bowl viciously. "You know the director asked me to bring him coffee the other day? And he insists on calling me Genevieve even though I've told him a dozen times I hate my full name."

"Ugh," Jared wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah," she says, sitting back and throwing her fork down. "I thought it was gonna be great, working with a small playhouse, helping the local community, getting to know everyone, yadda ya. Instead they're like 'ooh, she's an _outsider_.' Sucks."

"Sorry," he sympathizes. "If it helps, just remember how awful Untitled was on some days." He mock-shudders at the memory of shared early mornings at the coffee bar inside the art building, even if it wasn't all bad—he and Gen met on the job sophomore year after she quit cold-calling alumni for donations and they instantly clicked.

Gen barks a laugh. "True. It doesn't get much worse than slinging coffee for sleep-deprived, pretentious art kids when you're also fried and running on pure caffeine. Even the name was pretentious." After a minute of quiet Gen asks, "Are you showing anything soon?"

"No," Jared shakes his head regretfully. "Haven't had time to work on anything of my own for a while since I'm driving an hour each way most days."

"Mm," she responds noncommittally. "There's a show happening in a few months, a little before the holidays, if you're interested. It's kind of whatever, no theme or anything. Just show up with your stuff and people wander around. I know Katie and Aldis are doing it, too. Oh! There's a pancake bar. I think it's gonna be fun."

Jared nods. "Maybe. Send me a link and I'll think about it."

The second half of the year passes in a blur and before they know it, Christmas is right around the corner.

Jared stands to the side of Gen's claimed spot at the Pancakes & Booze art show, shooting the breeze with Katie and Aldis about what they've been up to since graduation. Aldis, one of the most naturally talented painters Jared's met, is now working with the conservation department at LACMA, and Katie's taken a job with an urban planning group since she double-majored in art and architecture. Jared tells them all about the TV show set he got to work on recently—four consecutive weeks on the same job was like heaven, especially getting to know the other crew members. He misses the camaraderie of college, the constant contact of their tight-knit group, and especially the satisfaction of a project appreciated by his fellow students. He misses doing art for himself.

"Hey, here," Jensen suddenly appears at Jared's side, two plates of pancakes piled high with whipped cream and syrup in his hands. Jared takes one of the plates and a fork, happily digging in.

"Jensen, we haven't seen you in forever!" Katie exclaims, reaching around his plate to hug him. He shakes hands with Aldis and accepts a hug from Gen as well while Katie asks, "What have you been up to?"

"Uh, not working at Guitar Center anymore," he grins broadly. "I actually got a contract a couple months ago so I've been working on getting a band together and rehearsing so we can start recording soon."

Katie squeals with delight while Gen squeezes Jared's forearm—he's told her all about the long hours Jensen's been putting in, stressing about finding the perfect group to play with—and they all congratulate him, promising to buy his album when it's available.

Jensen smiles again, open and earnest, and promises to get some extra copies to pass out via Jared once it's ready. "Just tell me about the parts you like," he adds with a wink.

Jensen and Jared elect to spend Christmas in Los Angeles again this year, spiking their eggnog with rum and laughing as they put on their matching ugly Christmas shirts to FaceTime Jensen's parents. They're not surprised to see that Jared's parents and sister are at the Ackles' house too, also wearing their traditional new pajamas and sipping mugs of hot cocoa just like they've done every Christmas since Jensen and Jared were born.

Five people can't fit in the frame of a single iPhone so Jensen's mom passes her phone around to her husband and then Jared's parents, and his sister Megan is the last to talk to them.

"Hey, bro!" Her long hair swings into view ahead of her smiling face.

Jensen replies before Jared opens his mouth, causing Jared to shoulder him out of the way. "I'm pretty sure she meant me," he says over Megan's tinny laughter as he tries to keep the phone focused on himself while evading Jensen's attempts to get back in the frame.

"I did," Megan confirms and Jensen goes slack against Jared, making an exaggerated sad face. Jared shows Megan and her laughter strikes up all over again.

"You guys _could_ just get married," she states matter-of-factly. "Then we wouldn't have this problem."

"Jesus, Megs!" Jared blushes furiously while Jensen dissolves into laughter next to him.

She shrugs, delicately taking a sip of her hot cocoa. "I can't help it if I'm right."

> _Jensen Ackles is doing something to pop-rock that I can't quite explain. He's a relative nobody, brand new to the industry, and yet in an era where young stars are recruited to be the face of hastily-assembled songs generated for maximum profit he's a burst of fresh air._
> 
> _"Crowded Room" was written entirely by Ackles, and as a newcomer it boasts no influence from established artists—often a selling point, yet clearly unneeded here. The lyrics are certainly the strong point on the album, tackling topics from teenage rebellion to the dysfunction of a couple who won't listen to each other, each song is cleverly crafted to stick with us, from catchy choruses to the one-liners we all love to shout in unison ("Darlin', don't give me shit 'cause you're full of it" has become a common phrase in my circle)._
> 
> _The album dabbles in a few different genres but is ultimately tied together by the prominent pianist work in each song. Ackles stated in an interview with Alternative Press that he "started playing piano around age six, and it's always held a special place in my heart. When I write, sometimes it's lyrics first, sometimes it's melody first, but it always starts out just voice and piano, and everything else comes from there."_
> 
> _Ackles is currently signed with The End, but if "Crowded Room" keeps climbing the charts at the same pace it is now, I'd be surprised if he doesn't have a major-label contract in the next couple of years._
> 
> _-Osric Chau, NME: "Jensen Ackles—Crowded Room Review"_

The End, and more specifically Jensen's manager, Rich, hosts a release party at a small club in North Hollywood the day after the album is officially unveiled to the public, three weeks into the new year. There, Jared meets the band that Jensen's been playing with: Rob, who sings backup ("dude has a voice like a fuckin' fallen angel," Jensen once told Jared) and plays guitar; Billy, the other guitarist, who seems just clean-cut and reserved enough to fit with a piano-rock band; Mike, who plays bass and keyboards and cracks robot jokes all night; and Stephen, the quiet, enigmatic drummer who breaks tensions with cat videos. Jared's duly impressed when he sees them onstage, playing together like they've been doing it for _years_ , not months.

They play a quick five-song set, handpicked by Jensen, and Jared spends the time leaning up against the bar feeling pleased and proud, like he could grab anyone in the crowd and say _That's my boyfriend, that's him singing up there_.

"Oh my god, I can't fucking believe it." Jensen strips his shirt off and throws it in the laundry basket, pants following closely behind. Jared grins at him from his place on the bed, open champagne bottle swiped from the event firmly in hand.

"Please. Like we all didn't know you were going to be awesome."

"I didn't think it was going to be _that_ awesome. We sold every copy of the record we had tonight!" Jensen kneels straddling one of Jared's thighs, grabbing for the champagne and taking a long swig.

"I know," Jared laughs. "It's a good thing you already have one, or you would have missed out."

"Ha ha," Jensen deadpans.

"In all seriousness," Jared starts, "I'm really proud of you."

Jared sees the faintest beginning of a blush rise on Jensen's cheeks before he ducks his head to nuzzle at Jared's neck. Jared brings one hand up to rest at the juncture of Jensen's neck and shoulder, an unconscious gesture of acceptance that the conversation is over. It never ceases to amaze Jared that his boyfriend can pen the most beautiful lyrics, but faced with a conversation in the moment he clams up.

Jensen decides he wants another tattoo for his twenty-third birthday. Jared just raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure? I mean, you kind of whined your way through the first one."

Jensen fixes him with a mock glare. "That was just because you were sticking me with a sewing needle. You can't hold that against me."

"Whatever," Jared laughs. "So what are you gonna get?"

Once Jensen has an appointment set up for the piano keyboard cleverly inserted into a double helix that he wants on his ribs—"Music is in my DNA," he tells Jared—Jared can't resist the idea of another piece of ink for himself. He ends up sketching out concepts for a partial sleeve of feathers and armor and sends them off to his own artist.

After the first session, Jensen's holding Jared's arm out to look at the linework and Jared blurts, "So, funny story...I might be looking into becoming a tattoo artist."

"Oh?" Jensen stills his movements.

"Yeah. You know Tim at King Richard's? The guy who's doing this, and did the ones on my back and arm and calf?" He points out each tattoo as he names them, and Jensen nods—not like he doesn't know each of them intimately already. "He, uh, he said I should bring some more of my drawings and stuff so he can check them out. Thinks I could maybe apprentice, if I wanted to start tattooing."

Jensen's eyes get rounder as Jared stumbles on, and by the end he's got a huge smile on his face. "That's fucking _awesome_."

Jared's answering smile is equally as large, but he ducks his head to let his bangs cover his face. "I'm not totally sure yet, but it would be pretty cool."

By the time he goes back for the second session, Jared's all but decided to give up set painting. Tim even offered to pay him for his office duties—not a livable income but it would help offset the lack thereof, which had been Jared's biggest concern.

Gen looks marginally horrified when Jared says he might go back to being a part-time barista if things get really tight, but her face softens as he talks about the tattoo style he wants to develop and she comments, "I haven't seen you light up like this in a while. I hope it works out."

Jared just smiles and pulls her into a tight hug.

"So," Jensen starts once they're both settled on the couch and Jared's finally gotten to eat a few bites of the leftover chow mein, "the album's been selling okay, and the local shows have been going really well, so the execs want to send me out on a tour soon."

"What? When? Where?"

The careful quirk Jensen had on his lips breaks into a full-blown smile. "One of the other artists—Jason, I met him and he seems pretty cool—is doing one next month and they want me to open for some of his shows. Just a few dates around the country."

Jared chews thoughtfully. "So this is it, huh? My rockstar's big debut. Next thing I know you'll be out touring the world and I can finally achieve househusband status."

"Shut up," Jensen laughs and pushes Jared's shoulder with his own. "You know, it would be cool if you came, too."

"What, on the tour?"

"Yeah."

"Jen, I don't know. I only just started with Tim. And we kinda need to make rent."

Jensen shrugs, fixing Jared with earnest eyes. "I know, babe. But we've got money from my upfront and I'm sure Tim will be cool. He _sounds_ cool."

That wrings a weak laugh from Jared. "Can I think about it for a while?"

"Sure." Jensen leans over and presses a kiss to Jared's temple. "Just don't take too long."

He knows Jensen holds out as long as he can, but it's only two days before Jared flips open his notebook to find Jensen's scrawl across his list of pros, cons, and questions to answer: "You're thinking too hard. Adventures!!" He shakes his head, but a smile steals across his face anyway as he recalls a young, gap-toothed Jensen grinning hugely, begging Jared to come have fun together. Jared was never very good at saying no to him, regardless of how many times they got in trouble.

At eight years old, they'd snuck out of the hotel suite their families were sharing at Walt Disney World to visit the manmade beach just outside the first floor entrance. At eleven, Jensen had decided he wanted to cannonball into their pool from the shed, climbing up precariously stacked tool boxes to reach the roof ten feet off the ground. At fifteen, Jensen had "borrowed" his dad's car to take Jared stargazing miles outside the city on his birthday, and they were both grounded for a month after that.

The smile on Jensen's face was worth it every time.

As it turns out, Tim _is_ cool with Jared leaving with Jensen. He waves a hand and tells Jared, "You're young, this is the time to do crazy shit," and says if he'll have a laptop he can still get paid for monitoring the email account and appointment calendar. It's a small consolation, but Jared happily takes it.

Jared waits until they day before they leave to start packing—partly because he procrastinated along with Jensen, partly because there was still some question about whether he'd be actually able to accompany Jensen and the band—so he ends up with some of Jensen's clothes in his suitcase and vice versa. It doesn't matter much to Jared, but Jensen's picky about his stage clothes so Jared gives up any pretense of privacy as Jensen rifles through both of their bags for the exact clothes he wants to wear each night.

On the way to Salt Lake City, Billy wanders by while Jensen's tossing clothes to the side and Jared's carefully refolding each item as it comes his way. "Divas, huh?" he teases, sharing a knowing look with Jared.

"Oh, shut it," Jensen returns without heat. "We've been on the road for two weeks and you've already done laundry twice."

"Fair," Billy concedes. "It takes actual effort to look this good, though."

Jared stifles a laugh as Jensen flaps a hand without looking and Billy moves into the rear of the bus, where they can hear shouts of laughter and indignation from the rest of the band, marking the end of another Mario Kart race. Jared catches Jensen's eye and grins, barely caring when Jensen puts his hand right in the pile of neatly folded clothes as he climbs into Jared's bunk.

When they turn northward to Minneapolis Jensen wants to visit First Avenue, so he and Jared put on their darkest sunglasses and pretend to skulk around the city like truly famous people. Jared recalls when Jensen insisted on dressing up as Prince for Halloween two years in a row in high school. There are few people who can truly pull off ruffled blouses and over-embellished pants and although it wasn't quite Jensen's best look, Jared clearly recalls feeling like he'd been punched in the gut the first time he saw Jensen strut out of his bedroom in the getup. He feels a little bit like that again, sharing in the sheer exhilaration of Jensen's first tour.

In DC Jensen and the band play at Black Cat, a cramped, smoky place with red string lights draped all throughout this section of the club. Jared thinks it's kind of a hole in the wall but Jensen's too caught up in the music to notice. They barely have enough space for the piano along with the other equipment on the raised stage jammed in the corner of this place, so everyone but Stephen is practically on top of each other and it's practically a miracle that Billy and Mike don't bump bass and guitar. Despite the tiny stage—or maybe because of it—everyone plays seamlessly, shifting from one song to the next in perfect harmony.

It's the best show they've done on this tour, and the crowd _sucks_.

Jared's off to the side, partially obscured behind the stage door with Rich, both of them peeking around the corner to watch the crowd. There's a few people in the very front who are into it, waving their hands and dancing with the music, but more than half the crowd is standing still or close to it and a good number are just hanging out near the bar. Jared can't believe that even "Dark Blue" doesn't get the crowd moving. As the lead single off the album, it's the one song that most people at the shows know enough to sing along to.

Despite the pitiful crowd, Jensen and the band rock through the show and exit the stage just as tired and exhilarated as ever. Jensen's eyes look especially bright in the red glow of the exit, excitement shining through as he steps down to grab a towel and a beer.

Once they're off the stage, they're free to do as they want for the next few hours while Jason takes the stage, which usually means half an hour at the merch table and then a couple hours of sitting at the back of the venue or a nearby bar, huddled in their little group. The glint in Jensen's eyes tells Jared he has other ideas for tonight, though, and they end up out on the streets of DC, a cool breeze whiffing through their jackets and Rich's curfew warning ringing in their ears.

Jared has no idea how Jensen knows where he's going, but he lets Jensen lead as they walk hand-in-hand with some kind of purpose. Their first stop is a pizza joint with long, skinny pies in cardboard boxes that almost look like a piano keyboard, and then as they meander down the yellow-lit streets, Jensen stops in front of a nondescript brick building.

"What's this place?" Jared asks through a mouthful of garlic and sausage. Jensen rocks back on his heels, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other curled around the pizza box resting on his hip.

"It's the 9:30 Club," he says in a slightly awed voice. He looks over at Jared for a brief moment, a smirk curling his lips, then back at the blue-painted entryway. "I'm gonna play here someday."

The meaning of this particular space might be lost on Jared, but in that moment he can only picture an eight-year-old Jensen getting ready for the school talent show, insisting he was going to be the most famous pianist in the world one day.

Back in LA, on the final stop of the month-long tour, they play a three-act night with a lady named Ruth who charms the crowd with her Scottish accent and impresses the band with her ability to drink every single one of them under the table. Jared doesn't know how Rich found this tiny spitfire—she barely comes up to Jared's chest once she kicks off her heels in the privacy of her hotel room, where they've ended up after closing out the bar they played at tonight—but she's certainly something else. Mike's spent half the night making moony eyes at her across the room and both Stephen and Billy have already called it quits, presumably already sleeping in their own room while Ruth continues to pour shots of Jack Daniels from the bottle she swiped from the bar. Jason's with them too, talking shop with Rob and Rich in a corner of the room.

Jensen and Jared are sitting on the floor propped up against one of the two beds. Jensen leans heavily into Jared as his bottle sits nearby on the carpet, fingers resting on the neck as if he'll have another swig in just a minute. Jensen's other hand is somewhere behind them, toying with the hem of Jared's shirt as he lolls into Jared's neck, breath hot over his skin, and he shivers involuntarily.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Jared turns and murmurs into Jensen's ear. He turns glassy eyes up to Jared and slowly nods against his shoulder, rubbing his cheek along the fabric of Jared's shirt. "I think we're gonna scoot," Jared announces, starting to get up off the floor. Jensen slumps into the spot where Jared was just sitting, and a chorus of laughter rises. After much tugging and encouragement Jared peels Jensen up from the floor, but they only make it as far as the bed before Jensen collapses down again and insists that he's home, much to Jared's chagrin. Ruth waves it off, telling them to stay the night, she doesn't need the extra bed.

They finally make it home around noon the next day, wearing their sunglasses indoors and Jensen complaining every step of the way.

Some days their home feels like a revolving door of bandmates and friends once they're settled back in town. If Jensen and the band are writing or rehearsing they mostly hang out at Rob's place, since it's better soundproofed and they can jam without worrying about their neighbors, even if the couple who rent the downstairs half of Jensen and Jared's house are pretty cool and hang out with them occasionally.

Other days, they all go out to any one of the local dives, like the one they're at tonight. The place is packed, mostly standing room only, though they were lucky enough to snag a table. That alone keeps eyes on them—they'd gotten the table by the same means, Stephen watching the groups to see if any were leaving—but six seemingly-single men is an extra attractant to the men and women surrounding them.

A couple hours in, Jared nudges Jensen to let him out of the booth so he can use the bathroom. After his business, he weaves back through the crowd only to stop short when he sees a girl perched on Jensen's lap, one leg extended to steady herself on the ground, exposing a lot of thigh from under her short dress as she giggles at whatever was just said.

"'Scuse me, hon," he marches up to the table and gives her his best shit-eating smile, "I think you're occupying my boyfriend's lap."

He's vindicated when she immediately flushes red and stammers, "Oh my god! I'm so sorry—I had no idea!" She runs back to her friends and Jared pushes Jensen into the middle of the booth, irritation flaring at the annoyed look on Jensen's face.

"Dude, what was that?" Jensen hisses.

Jared rolls his eyes and takes a swig of his beer. "She was _in_ your _lap_ , dude."

It's no surprise that everyone else is suddenly interested in their phones or someone else around them. Jared doesn't blame them, but he holds onto his composure by his fingertips and suggests that he and Jensen head out for the night. Jensen shoots him a murderous look, but doesn't protest otherwise.

When they get home, Jensen whirls on Jared, but all the fight's gone out of Jared. He's done this before and he'll do it again because he loves Jensen, but he's not in the mood to get into a knock-down, drag-out fight like the one they had the night of their senior prom. He sits on the couch and looks up at Jensen.

"I love you," he says quietly. "I've known for ages—hell, forever—that I would have to share you with the world, but that doesn't mean I always want to. Everyone knows I'm yours. I want them to know you're mine, too."

The statement seems to take the wind out of Jensen's sails and his anger deflates as he drops to one knee on the couch next to Jared. "I'm sorry, babe," he says to Jared's shoulder. "I just can't—I have to watch what I say and do in public now, and I can't go around making scenes. You know I'm yours. Don't ever question that."

Three weeks later, _Crowded Room_ hits #1 on the Billboard Independent Albums chart, coinciding with a leap from #21 to #18 on the Billboard 200. Jensen looks a little dazed after he gets off the phone with Rich, but that doesn't stop them from picking up a new bottle of champagne to crack open, giggling all the way to and from the drugstore.

> _"Songwriting is tough. Some days lyrics come fast and furious, then the flow stops for weeks—or months—and you're like, 'Where did I go wrong?' The problem with being a writer is that your self-worth is literally based on the last thing you wrote. I had writer's block for so long. Some days I looked at myself and asked, 'What happened?'"_
> 
> _-Jensen Ackles, interviewed by Adam Rose, WKQX: "Aural Pleasure with Adam Rose"_

"All of this shit sucks," Jensen groans, putting his head in his hands. The notebook in front of him is marked heavily with scribbles and scratches; an unusual number even for Jensen the lyrical perfectionist. In fact, Jared sees as he looks at it upside down across Jensen's desk, nearly every line except for one is crossed out on this page. _Moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul_ , Jensen's scratchy handwriting reads.

"I'm sure it doesn't _all_ suck," Jared says, pointing at the lyric. "That's a pretty good start there."

"Ugh." Jensen flips his notebook shut and puts his palm over it, final. "Do you wanna go out? I need a change of scenery. Nothing good is happening in here."

Jared doesn't want to leave the apartment now, not really, but he agrees anyway. They end up at a bar downtown, some slick place decked out in LED lighting and glass surfaces everywhere. It's not really his style and not even really Jensen's—he wonders how Jensen knows about this place—but apparently this is a suitable change of scenery for Jensen.

They order cocktails because this bar doesn't even serve beer, and settle back into a booth as they dance around the conversation that's been at the backs of their minds all night.

Jensen suddenly kicks Jared under the table. "What if I can't do it again?"

"Do what?" Jared looks at him over the rim of his glass, his ridiculously expensive G&T sliding down his throat.

"Write. Make an album as good as _Crowded Room_."

Jared laughs, but not unkindly. "You'll get there."

"I dunno." Jensen stares down at his drink, ice peeking up in a mountain around the dark liquid.

"Think about it—you've been writing music since God knows how long," Jared says. "It didn't come out of nowhere. This one'll come in time, too." He folds his hand over the one Jensen has resting on the table, and meets his eyes. It's been a while since they've had a conversation like this, and Jared realizes he misses it. Not the fear lurking behind Jensen's eyes, but the honesty and the sharing. He chews on his bottom lip, tonguing at the bead of his ring. "Look, why don't we get out of here? It's not really our scene." He squeezes and releases Jensen's hand, finishing his drink in one go. He pulls out his wallet and stands, throwing a few bills on the table to cover their tab.

Jensen slides out of his side of the booth after finishing his own drink and slips his hand into Jared's as they walk out the door. The whole ride home they stay linked, re-establishing a connection dampened by stress and fear.

When they get home, Jared crowds Jensen gently up against the wall to kiss him. They make it to the bedroom eventually, taking their time undressing each other bit by bit. Jared preps Jensen slowly, lazily thrusting his fingers in and out before he wipes them on the sheet and replaces them with his cock.

They don't usually fuck this slow or gentle, but it reminds Jared starkly of their first time—the Jensen underneath him not so different from his five years younger self, especially in the way he twines his legs around Jared's back and digs his heels in, always saying something to Jared without words.

With the sudden spike in _Crowded Room_ 's popularity, the label decides to capitalize on its success rather than push Jensen forward into a new album. Jensen's relieved that he's only immediately responsible for coming up with new tracks for a deluxe re-issue, although there's more than one early morning in the next couple of weeks that Jared wakes up to find Jensen had never come to bed, instead tinkering at the keyboard or staring down at a lyric sheet, often with a half-empty beer bottle or energy drink at his side.

One night Jared gets home to find Jensen on the phone, his hair in the tufted mess that means he's been running a hand through it—whether in frustration, thoughtfulness, or something else, Jared's not sure yet. Jensen covers the mouthpiece and mouths, "It's Rich," which is cue enough for Jared to head into the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner.

By the time he finishes making his quesadilla, Jensen's just wrapping up his conversation with a "Yeah, that sounds good. I know, I'm excited, too. It's gonna be good stuff." When he hangs up, he drops the phone in his lap and lets out a heavy breath, but his eyes are bright.

"What's up?" Jared asks from his place on the couch in Jensen's office, cross-legged in the sunken divot of the cushion.

"They're setting me up for another tour." Jensen's tone is excited, but he rubs his jaw nervously.

"Is that...not a good thing?" Jared asks carefully. Jensen turns his eyes to the ceiling and puts his hands behind his head, cracking his neck through the stretch.

"It's not just going to be a little tour," Jensen says eventually. "Rich wants a whole European leg, and a couple dates in Australia. It's probably gonna be close to a year."

"Oh." Jared can't think of anything else to say. This is good—great, even. It means Jensen's hitting his stride, gathering fans from all over the world after just one album, but Jared can't help the disappointment that bubbles up in his chest. There's no way he can accompany Jensen for months on end. Hell, just one month off was bad enough.

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jared leans forward on the couch, a frown forming on his face.

"Nothing." Jensen stops, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Just...it's not gonna be the same out there without you. I really wish you could come with me."

Jared's face softens, and the disappointment ebbs a tiny bit. "It's not like things'll be the same here, either," he says. "But we can text, and call, and video chat, and I'm sure Stephen will do some crazy livestreaming at some point. He loves updating the band's Instagram."

Jensen grins. "Yeah, I'm sure he will. You sure you're cool with this?" He stands and walks over to Jared, coming to rest between his knees.

Jared parts his legs, pulls Jensen down to kneel on his lap. "This is what you've been working for, right?" He pauses, waiting for Jensen's affirming nod, though deep down he knows it just as well as Jensen does. "Then yeah. I want you to be happy."

The tour announcement is met with a frenzy that neither Jared nor Jensen could have predicted. Multiple venues sell out out before the tour even begins, and Jensen's away from home for more tour prep, meetings, and press interviews than ever before.

The first time Jared runs into a photographer right outside their house doesn't strike him as odd, but the next day there's more than one and suddenly Jared's getting photographed just taking out the garbage. It seems that someone's figured out where they live—either by following them home, or they took Jensen's new track "Isabel Street" literally and stalked the entire two-mile length of it, which probably shouldn't be a surprising thing to do—and they've started lying in wait for Jensen, or maybe even Jared himself. Jared doesn't usually think of himself as shy of the spotlight but he's a bit unsettled by the whole experience, so when Rich insists on enlisting a security detail for Jensen, Jensen insists on the same for Jared.

There's a lot of back and forth on the subject before they decide to move away from Isabel Street entirely. They're both a little sad to leave the house they've called home for the past five years, although Jensen would never admit to that and Jared's just ready to get away by the end since more and more photographers are showing up weekly. Even Matt and Amy, the couple renting the bottom floor of the house, are clearly frustrated by the situation and Jared imagines their neighbors probably aren't thrilled either. In a moment of frustration, he tells Jensen that he wishes he'd never written _Isabel Street,_ which just adds to the mounting tension before moving day.

Rich and Jensen choose the new place—Jared isn't terribly picky, as long as he's got a space of his own, and he's trying to put in as many hours at the tattoo shop as possible to avoid the situation—and a hired team takes care of all the actual moving, which is nice. Jared's a little surprised that they end up in such a nice condo, with two small bedrooms they can convert into creative spaces for both of them, plus all the shared living area. If he's honest, he worries a bit about their ability to afford it, but Jensen lets it slip that it's part of some deal the record company has with the building management and they have other artists here too so the cost isn't that much higher than their old place.

Plus, the balcony and view off the sixteenth floor isn't half bad. After all the boxes have been deposited in their new home and the movers and friends have all left, Jared takes one look at the floor-to-ceiling windows and tells Jensen, "I'm gonna fuck you right there."

Jensen looks at him incredulously and then laughs, the tension of the last couple weeks bleeding away as Jared makes good on his promise.

After Jensen leaves for his second tour, Jared throws himself into his work, his days full of setting up appointments and keeping the shop's stations clean, and nights consumed with sketching and painting. He's got some pages that resemble pretty good flash at this point, and Tim's got him practicing with the tattoo gun on pig skin and grapefruit rinds (and Jared's pretty sure he's immune to scurvy at this point in his life), so he's hopeful that he'll get to start inking real, human skin soon.

The other artist at King Richard's, Felicia, chatters away with him as she sketches at the oversized drafting table she has set up in her corner. The pegboard over her station is covered in all kinds of spectacularly nerdy stencils and sketches, her hallmark as a tattoo artist.

"You know what this would be perfect for?" she asks as she peers over Jared's shoulder at the sheet he's working on, tiny jewels and beading strung together.

"Hmm?" he replies, looking up briefly.

"Sailor Moon. Think about it! All those crystals and jewels in the talismans," Felicia swoons. "You could make a killing doing art off the manga because there's a ton of people who do the really colorful, simple stuff from the anime already. Or I could just shut up," she jokes, seeing the expression on Jared's face.

"No! I mean, maybe. Wait, is this your way of asking me for a Sailor Moon tattoo someday?"

She grins mischievously.

Jensen FaceTimes Jared from Chicago, where he and the band are at a hole-in-the-wall bar, evidently getting shitfaced. He turns the camera around to show Jared the mechanic-themed decor on the walls, and inadvertently pans over the collection of bottles on the tabletop.

"Jesus, how long have you guys been there?"

"Not long," Jensen says. "Hour, maybe. Show ran a little long tonight. The crowd was great!"

Jared raises his eyebrows and starts to talk but he's overrun by Billy coming into view and yelling, "Hi, Jared!" at the phone, which sets into motion the entire band doing so. The passing of Jensen's phone ends on Rob, who seems pretty sober and jokingly tells Jared that he's already sick and tired of Jensen saying he misses him.

"Hey!" Jensen shouts. He grabs for his phone and the screen goes blurry with action for a minute until he comes back into view, somewhere outside the bar where it's quieter. "I _do_ miss you," he says earnestly.

"I know, babe. I miss you too. Go have fun tonight," Jared says, sounding an awful lot like a mom to his own ears, wishing he had a group to hang out and drink with tonight. It's tempting to call Gen, even if she'd call him out on his shit and poke fun at him all night.

Jensen smiles. "Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too." Jared ends the call and contemplates the six pack in his fridge instead.

The night after the Denver show, Jensen texts Jared _Rich got us some fancy ass weed. This stuff is legit._

 _Meh_ , Jared writes back. _I wasn't that into it that one time we shared._

_You'd like this stuff. Wish you were here to try it with me._

_If you say so. Mostly I just wish I was there so I could fucking touch you._

_I know :( Remember when your parents sent you to camp when we were 10? I thought those were the longest 3 weeks of my life._

_Longest of mine too until now._


	2. Chapter 2

> _A few years ago, Jensen's candidness about his sexuality might have cost him his career. Now, that's not so much the case, and teenage girls have never cared anyway. His songs are stunning, multilayered dreams of synthpop and pounding piano notes, topped with smart lyrics, and if his choice of partners gives you pause, what are you doing reading this review on The LGBT Update anyway?_  
>  _-Alona Tal, The LGBT Update: "Jensen Ackles' Crowded Room Fills Empty Spaces Inside of Us"_

Jared meets up with Jensen in Cleveland thanks to a last-minute flight sale. They'd never been quite sure what city Jared would be able to travel to so he's been getting all kinds of email alerts for days he may or may not have off, and the Cleveland show happened to fall on one of the days the tattoo shop is closed anyway. He gets in late enough that he misses half the show, but he connects with Rich to get in the back door and watches the show from the side of the stage as usual. Jensen doesn't notice him until the conclusion of the set, when he jumps the stairs off-stage and lands just a few feet in front of Jared.

"Oh, fuck!" he exclaims, immediately launching himself forward into Jared's arms. He's a little sweaty from the exhilaration and the heat of the stage lights, but Jared wraps him up all the same. "You're here? Seriously?"

"Believe it," Jared says, a grin stretching wide over his face as he buries his nose in the spiky tips of Jensen's hair.

"How long? Wait, shit, can we save this for after the encore?" Jared nods, and Jensen whirls to face the band. "Can we swap _Synesthesia_ for _Isabel Street_? So it's _Playing for Keeps_ and _Isabel Street_?"

Everyone glances at each other and then starts to nod. Mike makes a face but can't keep it for more than a second, cracking into a grin. Jensen makes a face back at him and reaches to the side to grab a bottle of water, never letting go of Jared. The crowd is still screaming, a vague chant of "encore, encore" filtering through the noise, and Jared's swept up in Jensen's enthusiasm, understanding the rush of excitement by proxy.

The crowd goes from a dull roar to fever pitch when the band returns to the stage, followed by Jensen after he gives Jared a quick kiss. "Knock 'em dead," Jared whispers as Jensen's hand slips from his and he jumps back onstage, taking the stairs two at a time. He notices that Jensen's wearing his favorite jeans, soft in the knees and clinging just right to his ass as he bounds upward.

Despite the last-minute change in setlist, the band doesn't miss a beat and the crowd is wild for it.

_It's like my heart, heart, heart is on Isabel Street_

Jensen sings half the chorus staring at Jared where he's standing just offstage, and that sends the crowd into a frenzy. He peeks out far enough that he can see some of the people in the front leaning over or craning their necks to try and spot him, and he gives a little wave before retreating back into the shadows of the wings.

When the show is finally, truly over, Jared hangs at the merch stand with Jensen while he signs autographs and poses for photos. More than once he hears "You guys are so cute!" or he's invited into a photograph, which is sort of heartwarming. He appreciates that Jensen's fan are accepting of him, especially since not every press item has been favorable regarding their relationship.

Jensen's all toothy smiles and winks despite the exhaustion lurking behind his eyes, and he banters back and forth with Jared and the fans until the line finally ends and the last fan has exited the building. The roadies have broken down the majority of the equipment and the band is nowhere to be seen, so Jared figures they've gone out somewhere.

Jensen drags Jared to the edge of the stage, tugging Jared down to sit with him. They sit side by side for a few minutes, legs dangling off the heavily padded carpet, silent as the chatter around them starts to die down. Jensen leans over to lace his fingers with Jared's again. "I'm really glad you're here," he murmurs and looks up at Jared through his lashes.

"Me too," Jared says, and leans in to brush his lips against Jensen's. Jensen grabs for the back of his head and deepens the kiss immediately, uncaring of anyone around them. They must look like such a fucking cliché, kissing on the edge of the stage. Jared's thrown back to their high school days, stealing kisses through rehearsals of the musicals when Jensen wasn't needed, and especially the day when Jensen was "late" to rehearsal after he and Jared had nearly gotten caught making out in the seats beforehand. Jensen had to army crawl through the auditorium to the doors in order to not get caught out.

The thought brings a smile to Jared's lips, and Jensen nearly breaks the kiss as he asks why. Before Jared can respond, Rich materializes in front of them saying, "Time to hit the road, guys."

Jared's slightly surprised to see that the crew has completely finished and the stage around them is empty, so it's just the three of them in the club. They jump down from the stage in unison and follow Rich to the bus waiting outside.

The hotel is tucked away on the fringes of the city, and despite the excitement at the show, Jensen's not exactly prime-time famous so it's not like they expect to get mobbed by fans. Still, they get to enter through the back door of the hotel and are escorted upstairs by security on the completely ordinary walk to their room, inside of which Jensen promptly collapses onto the bed.

"Ugh, this feels so good," he practically moans.

"Get up, slug," Jared laughs and pushes at him. "You need to shower before you get in that bed with me."

Jensen fixes him with a glare. "Remember the night the bed was half soaked in shitty champagne and we slept in it anyway?"

"Yes, and I also remember that we had to throw away the mattress because it was still wet, like a week later, and it was starting to smell," Jared laughs. "Will you shower if I go with you?"

Jensen pretends to think about it before dragging Jared with him.

They only snatch a few hours of sleep, but it's the best Jared's had since Jensen left again. He's not even mad at the alarm clock because he gets to wake up securely cocooned in Jensen's arms, his nose pressed into his hair.

They switch for a nap on the bus, Jared getting to act the big spoon in Jensen's tiny bunk. Unlike last time, there's no extra space for Jared—they're working on new material too, so all the empty space is taken up by laptops, spare instruments, and cables—but Jared wouldn't want to be apart from Jensen right now anyway. Once in Pittsburgh, they have a few hours to kill before the show so they go out to lunch with the band. Jensen orders a beer and Jared raises his eyebrows.

"What? It's just beer."

"Isn't your show at eight?" Jared asks.

"Please," Jensen scoffs. "It's barely enough to affect me and eight's when the opener goes on, not me, anyway. I'd never let anything affect my artistic integrity," he adds earnestly.

The Pittsburgh show is every bit as fun as the Cleveland one was. Jensen doesn't switch up the encore—apparently it was a one time deal for Jared's surprise arrival. Jensen, true to his word, is perfectly sober by the time showtime rolls around but once the show ends he immediately pops the top on one of the beers Rich has provided for them.

"When do you have to go back?"

"Tomorrow morning," Jared says with a grimace. I'll catch a cab to the airport when you guys leave."

Jensen nods thoughtfully, then sets down his bottle. "Guess we better make the most of our night, then."

They're both exhausted in the morning, but utterly sated and content.

LA seems a bit greyer when Jared returns. Even with the arrival of his apprentice's license—meaning he can _finally_ start tattooing for real—his fog doesn't fully lift until Jensen texts him just to say _I miss you._

Rich gives them a short break before they fly over to Europe, so they all come back to LA for three days. It's not nearly long enough in Jared's opinion but he'll take what he can get.

Jared hears the door open and has to restrain himself from running to the living room. He manages to walk to the door with some composure, but that all goes out the window when Jensen catches sight of him and he fucking lights up, goddamn million-watt smile trained exclusively on Jared, and he all but sweeps Jared into his arms.

There's a half-beat they spend just holding each other before they both go for a kiss at the same time, unintentionally intense enough that Jared's breathless when they break apart.

"You've got new ink," Jensen murmurs as he pulls back, looking at Jared's neck.

"Yeah," Jared says, touching the raised line of the black rose scrolling up the side of his neck. "Felicia wanted some practice at flowers."

"Looks good," Jensen says, fingers tracing the lines after Jared's.

"Thanks. You should see what I did for her," Jared replies with a wink.

Jensen laughs, dropping his bag to the floor. "Maybe I'll swing by with you tomorrow so I can see."

"Nah, it was crap," Jared replies. "I'm still getting used to tattooing on skin. Anyway, I took off tomorrow. I'm off until you leave again."

A smile breaks wide across Jensen's face, slow and sweet as molasses. He saunters closer to Jared, hooking his fingers into Jared's belt loops and drawing him in for a kiss. His mouth is hot and lush, his tongue as clever as ever as he probes Jared's mouth, tracing his teeth and tonguing gently at the ring in Jared's bottom lip. He walks them against the nearest wall, backing Jared up until his shoulders hit plaster.

Jared rests his hands on Jensen's ass, gently massaging the perfectly firm flesh through his jeans. He tips his head back and smiles as Jensen traces along his jawline and down his neck with his tongue, blowing coolly across spots he's just licked and causing Jared to shiver. His hands slide up under Jared's shirt, playing along the waistband of his jeans and deftly flicking open the button. Jensen bites down on Jared's shoulder at the same time that he plunges a hand inside Jared's jeans. Jared nearly comes then and there, having gone without the pleasure of someone else's hand on him for so long, but manages to stave it off. Jensen strokes him slowly, wicked mouth dancing across Jared's neck in time with his rhythm, and hot pleasure curls in Jared's belly. His hands roam over Jensen's body, cataloguing the planes he knows so familiarly, yet has been without for so long.

It doesn't take long at all for Jared to come in his boxers, sticky and hot against Jensen's hand. Jensen doesn't seem to care, just undoes his own jeans and ruts up against Jared, his thick cock sliding over the cut of Jared's hip and the messy fabric of his boxers. When he comes, too, he shudders silently against Jared, mouth open over his heart and breathing hot into his shirt.

They stay like that for a long time, wrapped together while the wall holds them up silently.

In the morning, Jensen's up before Jared. By the time he makes it out to the kitchen, Jensen's already on his second cup of coffee—Jared can tell because he's acting pretty human.

"You started painting again," Jensen says without preamble.

"Uh, yeah." Jared scratches the back of his neck and takes a sip of his own coffee, adding extra sugar.

"I like the new style."

Whereas Jared's tattoo sketchbooks have been getting more and more detailed, focusing in on tiny details, his paintings have become less defined by contrast. The canvases propped against the living room walls are swathed with broad strokes of color, less about depiction and more about invoking emotions. One is purely made of paint poured down the side, a messy and fun experiment.

"You're showing them when?" A smile breaks across Jared's face and he ducks his head slightly.

"I don't know. I haven't really found the right place yet. I've been busy with Tim anyway."

Jensen hums to himself. "I think I know a guy."

"Yeah?"

Jensen nods as he pulls out his phone. "I can get in touch with him if you want."

"Thanks, Jen."

"Anything for you, babe." Jensen leans over and kisses Jared.

The next leg of Jensen's tour is ten weeks in Europe, then a couple shows in Australia before he heads back to the States. It's not that Jared was surprised by the fact that Jensen would be on the road for the better part of a year, but he was a little surprised at how hard it's been. The longest time they'd ever been apart since they were old enough to declare themselves best friends was that three-week stretch of Jared's summer camp, and that was over a decade ago.

He supposes he can't really blame Jensen for turning to the bottle. God knows Jared's thrown himself into his work as a distraction—he's filled more sketchbooks and painted more canvases in the last few months than he has in the entire previous year. But he can't lie, he's disappointed that Jensen feels the need to get drunk even when they _are_ together. He flies out tomorrow, and while Jared had hoped to spend time with Jensen on the couch, maybe watching movies or scarfing down pizza, and then getting lucky, Jensen apparently has other plans. Sure, they're on the couch, and _Mallrats_ is playing in the background, but instead of cuddling and chatting, Jensen's sitting at one end with a bottle in his hand, pointing out all the bad things about the movie while Jared's at the other end, curled in on himself.

"Jen, if you hate it so much, we can turn it off," Jared finally sighs.

"Huh? I thought you wanted to see this."

"Not if you're just going to shit on it all the way through."

"I'm not shitting on it. I'm just saying that it's like the terrible little cousin of _Clerks_ , which was actually interesting."

Jared sighs again, diverting the conversation. "Do you want to go to bed? I know you have to be up early tomorrow."

"It's like, eight o'clock."

"Well, we can use whatever extra time we have _in_ bed," Jared tries for the innuendo, but falls short because of his irritation at Jensen's attitude.

Jensen laughs and sets his bottle down anyway.

It's no surprise that Gen and Katie are the first in line to get tattoos from Jared after he successfully inked a tiny demon's head on Tim and an inkpot for himself. He's just doing outlines, no shading yet, but he's pretty pleased with the way Katie's oversized diamond and Gen's beaded anklet turn out, and Tim gives him the okay to keep bringing friends in for practice. Jared's proud to flip through the flash pages he's created over the last few months and the smiles from friends of friends give him the buoyancy he needs to carry him through Jensen's current absence.

With Jensen on another continent entirely, it's hard for them to catch each other for calls or videos. Jared doesn't think much of it as the days go on until he wakes up and there's no message from Jensen, which is unusual. He tries not to think about it as he rolls out of bed and gets ready for a full day at the shop, but when his midday break rolls around and there's still radio silence, he starts to worry a little. He checks his log and the last text Jensen sent was yesterday afternoon—his midnight, since they're in Rome right now—saying he and Rich were heading out, accompanied by a late-night selfie. It's been almost 24 hours, which ratchets up Jared's anxiety considerably. He thinks to himself, _Rich wouldn't let anything happen to him, he would have called if something did, Jensen's probably just sleeping it off._

He always did like to sleep for hours and hours on his days off.

Still, Jared pulls out his phone and sends a message to Rob, and nearly fumbles the device in his hurry to pull it out when it vibrates in return.

"Hey," he picks up.

"Hey Jared. What's up?" The line is crackly but Jared forges ahead.

"Have you seen Jensen at all today?"

"Um, yeah, no, I haven't seen him. We had a day off and I know he and Rich were going to hit some party last night. I think they rolled in around 3 or 4 AM, judging by the noise in the hallway. Why?"

"Okay," Jared breathes. "I haven't heard from him all day and I dunno, I just got worried."

"It's okay man, I'm sure he's fine. Probably just sleeping it off."

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to go check on him?"

Jared chews on his lip, catching the ring between his teeth before he blows out a breath. "No. You're probably right. Just let him know that I called when he wakes up."

"Sure thing." Jared ends the call and chews on his lip again before heading back inside.

When Jensen finally calls, Jared's still wide awake. He hasn't been able to sleep without hearing back from Jensen.

"Hey babe," Jensen says as soon as Jared picks up. Jared says his name on a long, relieved exhale and Jensen laughs a little. "Miss me?"

"Jen, I haven't heard from you for almost two days."

"I know, babe, I'm sorry. We've been really busy." Jared glances at the clock. 3:21 AM. He's exhausted from lack of sleep in addition to the anxiety, and Jensen is _lying to him_.

"Rob said you guys had the day off yesterday."

" _They_ did," Jensen says scornfully. "Rich had plans for me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's not exactly the glam life. Sleeping on a bus half the fucking time, singing my goddamn heart out every night, having to smile pretty for interviews and groupies and _network_ almost every day," Jensen spits, voice rising until he reaches the end of his sentence and groans.

"You okay?"

"Hangover," Jensen grits out. "God, all I wanna do is stay in bed."

"Maybe you should lay off the sauce next time," Jared teases.

"I fucking know that, thanks." Jensen's voice is acidic, not at all what Jared was expecting.

"Dude, what is your deal? You don't talk to me for two days and now you just want to snap at me?"

"Well maybe if you laid off the high horse act, I wouldn't have to!"

"High horse? Seriously?"

"Yes. 'Oh Jensen, but you asked for this.' 'Oh Jensen, you wanted to be a star,'" he mocks.

"Jensen, that's not what I said."

"If you were here, you'd want to drink too. Although you'd probably make me want to drink even more," Jensen states, and oh that is _it_.

"Jensen, what the fuck?" he explodes. "I'm fucking _worried_ about you!"

"No need. I'm fine," Jensen says. "Plenty of people here to look out for me."

"Okay, and? Is it too much to ask that I hear from my fucking boyfriend more than every couple of days when he's halfway across the world?"

"Maybe it is," Jensen says, and Jared doesn't even know what that means, but he's too pissed to see straight, let alone think rationally, so the next thing that comes out of his mouth is "Fine." Jensen yells "Fine!" back at him and suddenly Jared's left with a silent phone in his hand, sitting uselessly in his studio with anger and sadness swirling around inside him.

It takes him hours to fall asleep that night.

Jared has the next day off and wakes up sometime in the late afternoon, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. There's no messages from Jensen or anyone else, so he starts checking his email and scrolling through his news feeds, stopping when he sees a headline "Jenny Ackles Drunk Onstage, Walks Out!"

"What the fuck," he breathes as he taps on the article link.

> _Well, well, well! Pretty boy piano rocker Jensen Ackles ended the European leg of his tour with a bang. Or should we say with a stumble? Fans say he showed up 40 minutes late to his own set and slurred his way through five or six songs before walking off the stage in the middle of a song, leaving his band and backup singer Rob Benedict to finish the song._
> 
> _One critic said Jenny did fine sitting at the piano, but when it came time to use that (admittedly fine) mouth of his, he "spent time at the mic in between songs muttering unintelligible but sad-sounding phrases." What the heck was going on?!_
> 
> _Check out his "performance" in the video above!_  
>  _-Chad Michael Murray, CMM.com: "Jenny Ackles Drunk Onstage, Walks Out!"_  
> 

CMM is the worst kind of celebrity gossip rag, but unfortunately the douchebag who runs it isn't the type to print false stories just for hits—he apparently just gets his kicks out of Photoshopping stupid captions onto photos to go along with his instantaneous reporting. Jared watches the video linked, hardly believing that's Jensen in his dark sunglasses, teetering across the stage and cursing at nothing in particular.

"Fuck, Jen," Jared whispers. His vision blurs as he fires off a text to make sure Jensen's okay.

_Ha. "Okay" is way off the mark. That show was a nightmare. Everyone here is pretty pissed._

_What happened?_

_You know. Fight with boyfriend, get drunk. No big deal except when you're supposed to be performing._

Jared can't think of a suitable response, but another message comes in from Jensen while he's thinking of a reply.

_I can't fucking wait to be home._

After the shine of their reunion wears off, it's strangely hard to get used to having Jensen at home again. For months Jared's been able to work around his own schedule, taking over the condo with his paintings and sketchbooks, but now he's forced to cram everything back into his dedicated studio space. The canvases stack against the wall, leaning against each other and covering each other up. The living room seems that much more drab for the lack of color splashed against the walls.

Jensen doesn't seem to be having as much trouble adjusting; he's used to sharing his space after months on the road, but Jared still catches him sniping about something or other every so often, usually related to things that would be taken care of by someone else while on tour.

They fight over making the bed, of all things.

Now used to staying in hotels or having someone else do the laundry while on the road in the sleeper bus, Jensen has apparently forgotten that Jared likes a neatly-made bed after they're up for the day. It's one of his quirks, for all his messy-artistic brain, that he can't leave the bed unmade.

While Jared angrily tugs at the sheets and Jensen fumes somewhere else in the condo, Jared wonders why they'd never had any issues living with each other before. Surely living in each other's pockets for years would've led to _some_ kind of pent-up frustration.

When Jared sits down to sketch out his irritation, he ends up writing a list of all the things Jensen's done lately that have annoyed him. As he looks back at the list he realizes a lot of it is stuff that Jensen's always done, but it's been thrown into sharp relief after their forced separation. Things like leaving the toilet lid up, leaving dishes in the sink when the dishwasher stood perfectly empty, not making the bed—those are all diehard Jensen habits, but Jared had never really noticed them before. They were just a part of life with him.

Jared sucks in a breath as he thinks back on the past year, how Jensen's career is affecting them both. Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it also poses a whole new set of problems.

So Jared does what he does best—talks about it. He discusses with Gen while he practices shading the beads on her anklet and they go out with Aldis and Katie to their favorite diner, where Jared takes up a solid third of their conversation. When he gets back from the bathroom they've collectively drawn TALK TO HIM on their plates in condiments, and Jared gets the hint.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" Jensen is immediately wary and defensive and Jared regrets his approach, but hadn't been able to think of another way to broach the conversation they need to have. He didn't think Jensen would be heading for the liquor cabinet before Jared had even really raised any of his points, though.

"Jen, come on. Do you really need a drink for this?"

Jensen glares. "Seems like this is the kind of talk where alcohol might be necessary."

"I'm not trying to police you," Jared sighs. "I just want to talk without you getting up to leave."

Jensen fidgets with the vodka bottle, one hand still holding the empty tumbler. Eventually he sets them down and turns back to Jared. "Okay. Talk."

The discussion isn't pretty but Jared can admit where he's gone wrong, and he thinks he might have gotten through to Jensen, too. At the very least, Jensen knows Jared's sore spots and Jared's promised to be more patient—he just hopes it's enough to bring them back in sync.

Jared works at the shop five days a week, tattooing on three and the other two dedicated to admin stuff and sketching, while Jensen slowly works on his next album. The garbage is suspiciously full of crumpled notebook papers, though, and one day Jensen comes back from a meeting with the sourest look on his face.

"What's up, babe?"

"They want me to have all my material ready in two months."

"Two months? Isn't that a little fast?"

"I tried to tell them that. They think I'm just stalling."

Jared makes a face. "They're dumb. You wrote some of your first stuff years before it made it onto an album."

"Yeah. I told them that. Rich is trying to work something out." Jensen hovers in front of the liquor cabinet, contemplative. He eventually selects a bottle and pours himself a shot, then another. Jared looks on worriedly but sympathizes all the same, and tries to tell himself he's not resentful when he has to carry Jensen to the bathroom and prop him against the toilet later that night.

After that, the band comes over more frequently. Rob in particular, because he's got "good shit in his brain," according to Jensen. Jared initially welcomes them, but as time wears on he becomes wary of their arrival because more often than not that also means booze and he's watched Jensen put away more in the last few weeks than he has in their entire lives. Jared doesn't get it—drunk Jensen is morose more often than not and his moods swing from zero to sixty in the span of a few minutes. It hurts Jared to watch Jensen like this, when he used to be so carefree, but he remembers what happened the night of Rome and keeps his mouth shut.

It's a completely nondescript night when everything changes.

Jensen and Jared are piled on the couch, half-empty pizza boxes in front of them and a basketball game on the TV. Jared had carefully avoided introducing alcohol into the evening, but when he gets up during a commercial to put away the leftover pizza, Jensen shouts after him, "Hey, bring me a beer, would you?"

Jared walks back into the living room after cleaning up, hands empty.

Jensen frowns. "Where's the beer?"

"Are you sure you should be drinking?" Jared asks carefully. He shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the doorframe in a subconscious effort to look casual.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, there are like, four empty liquor bottles in the recycling bin right now and a whole lot more beer bottles with 'em."

"Okay, _Dad._ It's just one beer," Jensen gets up and pushes past Jared, clearly intent on heading for the kitchen. Jared grabs him around the waist to meet hard green eyes. "Jared. Let go of me," Jensen says lowly.

"No," Jared responds. "No, it's not just one beer."

"Uh, yes it is."

"Jensen, c'mon. You'll have one, and then another, and then you'll switch to shots or something until I have to pour you into bed at the end of the night." Frustration bleeds into Jared's voice and the words come out faster and faster as he talks.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Jensen jerks out of Jared's grip and stalks toward the kitchen, Jared following close behind.

"I don't? I don't know what it's like to watch you disappear into a bottle night after night? I don't know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night and check on you to make sure you're still fucking breathing?"

Jensen snorts. "It's not _that_ serious."

"Maybe not to you."

"You need to relax. It's just blowing off steam—from the execs who want me to pull lyrics and music out of my ass in two months, from the fans who keep asking when new material is happening, from everything I have to do. This shit is hard."

"I get that, Jen, I really do," Jared says, stepping forward to grasp Jensen's arm as he reaches for a bottle in the fridge. "But there are other ways to cope. The way I see it, you're heading for another Rome incident."

Jensen falls silent and stares hard at Jared. "You know what, Jared? Fuck you."

Jared reels, stunned at Jensen's harsh words as Jensen walks away, swigging from his bottle. "What the hell, Jensen? Why are you being such a _dick_?"

Jensen whirls on him. "Because since I got home, you've done nothing but criticize. Nothing is up to your standard, I get it! Just leave me the fuck alone already."

"The fuck did I ever criticize you about?"

"Anything! Everything! Not making the goddamn bed!" Jensen reaches his studio door and turns the knob, looking back at Jared. "Just leave me alone," he pleads as he moves into the room. Jared sticks his foot in the door and follows him, his gut insisting that if he leaves Jensen alone something bad will happen. "Jared, I'm telling you, get out."

"No." Jared folds his arms over his chest. "No, we are going to talk about this."

Jensen points at him with the bottle, gesturing wildly as he speaks. "There's nothing to fucking talk about! All there is is you getting on my ass about everything, like I can't even be trusted to be a fucking adult!"

The bottle in his hand is suddenly in the air, sailing toward Jared. He ducks, and it hits the far wall and shatters in a spectacular shower of glass.

The world seems to move in slow motion as Jared straightens up. Jensen's eyes are wide with surprise, but his mouth is still set in a hard, angry line.

"Well," Jared says, proud that his voice stays steady, "If that's how it's going to be."

He turns and walks out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Jared ends up at Gen's apartment, partly because he can't think of anywhere else to go and partly because he stupidly left with only his wallet, phone, and the clothes on his back. Jared is beyond grateful that she takes one look at him standing on her door step and ushers him inside to the couch. In five minutes flat she's got him spilling the entire story, and she only leaves the couch to get water for herself and Jared.

Afterward, he looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and asks, "So can I crash here for a while?"

That startles a laugh out of her, and she wraps him in a tight hug while saying, "Of course." She lets Jared hang onto her for a while, then leaves him on the couch for a few minutes while she gets out a pillow and sheets and together they turn her couch into a makeshift bed. It's not nearly long enough for Jared—his feet _and_ ankles hang off the end—but he's immensely grateful for anything she offers.

Worn out from the highs and lows of his emotional stress, Jared quickly falls into a restless sleep.

The next morning when he turns on his phone again, he's not surprised to see a slew of text messages come in.

_I'm sorry._

_Please come home._

_I don't know what to say Jay, all I know is I can't lose you_

_If I kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?_

Jared snorts at the last one, derisive at the idea of Jensen using his lyrics to try and get through to him. Of course he would pick that song, the one he wrote for Jared back in high school, the one word he tattooed into Jared's arm with a sewing needle one impulsive night. _Better._

He sends back a single text message.

_I need some time._

Although Jared has the day off, Gen has to work, so he ends up hanging out on her couch raiding OnDemand and aimlessly surfing the internet on his phone. Eventually he runs out of distractions and decides to call Megan, chewing on his lip ring the entire time the phone rings. He's just starting to compose a voicemail message for her in his head when she picks up.

"Hey, Jay!" Her singsong voice brings a smile to his face, but it's not enough to wipe away the dread of this conversation.

"Hey, Megs."

"Jared? You don't sound so good. What's up?"

"Um," he stalls, trying to figure out the right words. "Jensen and I sort of had a fight."

"Sort of?" Megan presses gently. Jared ends up telling her the whole story, glossing over some of the details from the last year and a half, but the story's still long enough that twenty minutes have gone by before he wraps it up.

Megan sighs. "You know, I kind of had a feeling."

"What? How?"

She laughs, not unkindly. "Jared, we don't live under a rock. I can find the news just like anyone else on the internet."

Jared's reeling from that revelation, so naturally his next question is, "Do Mom and Dad know?"

"Maybe?" He can picture her shrugging. "I never said anything to them, but they ask me every so often if I've talked to you guys lately. Donna and Alan probably have some idea."

"Shit." Jared rubs his hand over his mouth. "I don't want them to find out about this through a freaking gossip rag."

"I kind of doubt this is going to make it into the magazines unless one of you guys specifically says something," Megan points out. "But you should probably at least call Mom and Dad."

"Yeah," Jared says, dazed.

He hears some muffled shouting in the background of the line and Megan tells him, "Crap, I gotta go. Listen, call or text me if you need to talk or whatever. And if you need to get away, I've got a super comfy dorm room floor you can crash on."

Jared laughs weakly. "Thanks, Megs. Love you."

"Love you too, bro."

The phone call with his parents is equally as long. Jared's emotionally exhausted by the end of it and closes his eyes as soon as he hangs up, only to be startled awake by Gen returning home.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," she says as she takes off her jacket and tugs her hair out of the bun she'd had it in, only to tie it up again a minute later.

"Hey." Jared's voice sounds weak and thin to his own ears. She plops down the couch next to him and nudges his shoulder with hers.

"You wanna keep napping, or are you hungry? I could go for pizza."

On cue, Jared's stomach rumbles and she laughs. "I guess I haven't eaten anything today," he admits.

"Have you even gotten off this couch?" She nudges him again when he shakes his head. "Go take a shower. I'll order something."

Jared picks glumly at his shirt, and bless her heart, she picks up on it immediately. "I'm sure you'll be fine for another day. I'm not sure I have anything that would fit you, but I can run to your place or take you to Target if you want..." She trails off toward the end, clearly uncertain about what to do.

Jared sighs. "Let's go to Target."

"Okay. Food first, though. I'm starving."

The next day, Jared admits he needs to figure out what to do about his stuff. Gen insists on accompanying him to the condo to pick up what he can, shoulders squared like she's ready for a face-off as Jared unlocks the door.

Jensen's on the couch, sitting in the semi-dark with a notebook in hand and a bottle on the table next to him. He squints at Jared like he doesn't quite believe he's there.

"Um. Hi, Jensen." Jared tries to edge down the hallway without really talking to Jensen, but he should have known better than to think he could get away with that. Jensen gets up from the couch, unsteady on his feet. When Jensen gets closer, Jared can smell the booze radiating off of him and involuntarily takes a step back.

"Jared, baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean any of it, I'm so—"

"Jensen, stop." Jared catches Jensen around his wrists as he reaches out, palms extended. "I'm not here to stay."

"What?" Jensen whispers, his arms going limp in Jared's hands.

"I'm just here to get some of my stuff."

"Why?" Jensen takes his hands back, folding in on himself.

"Because I meant it when I said I think we're better apart," Jared sighs.

"Jared, why?" Jensen's breath hitches and Jared sighs again, recognizing the oncoming tears and refusing to be manipulated. He turns away from Jensen and starts down the hall to their bedroom. "Why, Jared?" Jensen calls after him, and Jared hears Gen's voice, low and unintelligible but fierce behind him as he enters the room.

He's just gotten his bag from the closet when both voices raise and there are sounds of scuffling in the doorway. "Get off me!" Jensen's voice is loud and angry, and Jared turns to see him violently shake off Gen's arm. He immediately ducks in between the two of them, both Jensen and Gen staring daggers at each other.

"Jensen, stop. Just let me get my stuff," he pleads. He moves forward, inching Jensen out of the room until he can shut and lock the door.

"Jared! Let me in! You'll regret this!"

Jared looks helplessly at Gen. "Let's just get as much as we can, as fast as we can."

"Where do I start?" Her voice is steely with resolve.

"The drawers on the left are all mine. Grab as much as you can." Jared winces at a particularly loud bang on the door. "I'm gonna grab my stuff from the bathroom."

As suddenly as Jensen's violent outbreak began, it quiets, and Jared and Gen lock eyes as the hallway falls silent. She's managed to stuff a hell of a lot into his duffel already, and he dumps in his toothbrush and shower stuff unceremoniously. "Stay here and lock the door behind me," Jared says. "I'm going to get some things from my studio. Can you also empty out that nightstand?"

She nods, determined, and Jared quietly opens the door to slip out. Jensen's no longer in the hall so Jared slinks into his studio. He looks at his canvases, relieved to see that none of them have been destroyed, but there's no way he can take all of them with him today. He grabs his sketchbooks and tattoo supply case, then heads back to the bedroom. Gen's already exiting into the hallway before he can say her name, his duffel slung over her shoulder and the two pillows from his side of the bed tucked under her arm as she pulls the door shut behind herself. He flashes her a grin and jerks his head. "Let's go."

They head for the living room where they find Jensen sitting on the sofa again, one foot tucked under his opposite knee and drinking straight from the whiskey bottle.

"Jesus, Jensen." Jared shakes his head. "We're going now," he says loudly. "I'll send someone to pick up the rest of my stuff another time."

Jensen doesn't respond until Jared opens the front door, and then he hears a quiet, "Why don't you love me anymore?"

His hand tightens around the doorknob and he motions for Gen to go ahead. He locks eyes with Jensen for a long moment, heart clenching in his chest at the sight of all that pain and fear in Jensen's green eyes. It's almost enough to give him second thoughts, but then he looks down at the bottle in Jensen's lap, held loosely by his hands, and that alone steels his resolve once more.

He leaves without another word.

When they get back to Gen's, Jared dumps his stuff on the floor and immediately calls Rich.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rich, it's Jared. I need a favor."

"Sure thing, kiddo. What's up?"

Jared takes a fortifying breath. "Jensen and I kind of split, and I went over there to get some of my stuff...I need to be able to get the rest of it without him there next time."

Rich blows out a breath. "You guys don't do anything by halves, do you?" He's silent for a moment, and Jared isn't sure he's going to get his wish, but then he speaks again. "I'll do you one better, kid. You just let me know what you need and I'll arrange the drop-off."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Get me that list by tomorrow and I'll make it happen."

"Thanks, Rich."

"Yeah. Just...once this is over, don't ask me for any more favors, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"Bye, Jared."

> _"I remember him coming into that meeting half-asleep, clearly out of his mind and distinctly uninterested in anything the execs had to say. It had been less than a week [since the breakup] and he was still in a really emotional place, so I think that pressure of 'write another album by X time' is what spurred the outpouring of his emotions. Jensen was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but this was extreme even for him. I think I was halfway through reading his shortlist of songs when I thought to myself, 'This is some of the saddest shit ever written.'" - Richard Speight, Jr._  
>  _-J.P. Stuart, "Dark Blue: The Jensen Ackles Story"_  
> 

"Jared, baby. Please pick up. I miss you. I just wanted to say that you...are the best person I ever knew. I always admired that about you, you know? I don't know if you ever did. But even when things were totally shit you never gave into anyone or let them push you around. You've always been unapolo—ugh—getically true to yourself. I admire that. You're my fuckin' moral compass. I miss you, babe."

The voicemail ends with a scuffle like Jensen dropped his phone. Jared's thumb hovers over the delete button, but he can't bring himself to press it.

The first time one of Jensen's songs comes on the shop radio, Felicia freezes in her seat, needle poised over her client's arm. Jared catches her eye from across the room, glad he wasn't actively tattooing because he'd jerked hard enough to upset one of the ink pots he had laid out on his station. As it was, he'd had to ask his client for a quick break so he could clean the ink spill and pull himself together. The song plays through, nobody willing to openly acknowledge it, and Jared lets the chorus wash over him, trying to pretend that the words don't mean anything.

_Well I bet you're sorry now_  
_Well you did this to yourself_  
_Well I bet you're sorry now_  
_Well aren't you sorry now?_  
_It's a lonely road where the forgotten go_  
_Where your misery finds its company_  
_It's a long way down to the sacred ground_  
_Where the reaper's playing for keeps_

He can feel the weight of both Tim's and Felicia's eyes on him as he stands motionless at his station, so he pushes his thoughts and emotions aside to pull himself back into the right headspace. He's grateful that his client doesn't make any mention of his lapse in professionalism—whether because he isn't aware of the reason or he doesn't want to make things awkward, Jared doesn't know, but he's thankful all the same.

The one thing Jared can't seem to stop doing is digging for news on Jensen. He trawls through the Jensen Ackles tag on Chad Michael Murray's sleazy gossip site, watches for any mention of Jensen in his social media feeds, and leaves a Google News tab permanently open, to be refreshed on a near-obsessive basis.

Very few recent photos of Jensen are flattering—amateur paparazzi photos rarely are—but Jensen looks like a downright mess in several. Jared's seen Jensen photographed fighting outside of bars,, stumbling down Los Angeles streets, even passed out on a stranger's stoop. The ache in his chest never eases—if anything, it flares stronger every time Jared sees Jensen's name or picture. If Jensen thought their separation during his tours was hard, it's nothing compared to the way Jared feels now, having walked away from the love of his life.

He almost feels responsible for Jensen's decline.

> _On his sophomore album, piano rocker Jensen Ackles returns with an exploration of love as a dark, painful force. Where "Crowded Room" was optimistic and relentlessly forward-facing, "Sideways" is mired in self-destruction, grief and loneliness woven through every note._  
>  _-Rachel Miner, The Interns: "Jensen Ackles Heads Sideways"_  
> 

> _"Sideways" features more of the stripped down sound we got a taste of from his debut, with tracks like "Million Dollar Man" and "Blue" haunting our memories for hours, days afterward._  
>  _-Osric Chau, NME: "Jensen Ackles—Sideways Review"_  
> 

> _Every song is expertly written, Ackles' lyrical and musical craft clearly having not suffered a bit for all his emotional stress. In fact, in the hands of anyone else, an entire collection of songs like these might be summarily dismissed for its "emo" content. But as with "Crowded Room," Ackles touches on our own emotions so that by the end, we feel his grief nearly as intensely as he does._  
>  _-Brock Kelly, Pitchfork Media: "Jensen Ackles, Sideways"_  
> 

Jared turns the package over in his hands, unsure about opening it. Although it bears no return address, he would recognize the handwriting on the front any day of the week, for the rest of his life. Jensen's.

Eventually he opens it, sliding the tape off the side to reveal a glossy black cardboard sleeve, simply embossed with Jensen's name and _Sideways_ centered in the middle in gold. He inhales sharply, realizing this must be the final product of Jensen's efforts over the last year. He flips to the back to find the tracklist printed in the same simple format, and feels a stab of disappointment when he realizes he doesn't recognize any of the song titles. _That doesn't mean anything,_ he thinks. _It's not like you knew every single thing he ever wrote._

There's a post-it note stuck to the corner, and Jared pulls it off, reading Jensen's scrawl: _Set for release in a week. Wanted you to hear it first. Don't be mad, Rich gave me your new address. x_

Something tugs in Jared's chest and he decides to listen to it immediately, suddenly grateful that the sound system is one of the few things he'd bothered to set up in his new apartment so far. He doesn't know what he expected, but he definitely hadn't thought he would end up in his bedroom flipping through old chat logs while his vision blurs and clears in turn.

They haven't talked since Jared walked out that day, but the impulse to call Jensen is overwhelming. Every word is perfectly crafted to tug at his heartstrings, hell, _anybody's_ heartstrings—in true Jensen style, you don't have to be a part of his emotional turmoil in order to understand and relate it to your own life.

Jared turns his phone over and over in his hands as the album repeats, and in the morning he wakes up to the sounds of Jensen's throaty, powerful voice.

_And God knows I'm not dying but I bleed now_  
_And God knows it's the only way to heal now_  
_With all the blood I lost with you_  
_It drowns the love I thought I knew_

> _Musical darling and perpetual hot mess Jensen Ackles was spotted checking into Wonderland Rehabilitation Center today. Ackles' second album, Sideways, just dropped yesterday and already has fans all over the world crying their eyes out to his soulful voice singing about lost love. Clearly Ackles realized something is wrong, and it isn't JP—here's hoping that things won't be so sideways for him after twelve weeks in Wonderland!_  
>  _-Chad Michael Murray, CMM.com: "America's Favorite Drunk Pianist is Going to Rehab!"_  
> 

Jensen's mom calls Jared the day that Jensen checks into rehab. For the first time since Jared walked out the door, he cries not for himself, but for the person they both lost.

"I hope he finds his way back to you, sweetie," Donna says tearfully before hanging up.

> _Set your alarms, pianist lovers! Jensen Ackles is back from Wonderland and embarking on a tour to promote his sophomore album, Sideways. It's been months since the piece dropped, but it's been holding steady on the charts thanks to singles "I'll Be Waiting" and "Million Dollar Man" getting some serious on-air promotion. If you want to roll the dice on seeing Jenny wasted on stage, tickets go on sale next week. Good luck!_  
>  _-Chad Michael Murray, CMM.com: "Jensen Ackles is Back from Wonderland and Ready for Another Trip"_  
> 

Jared wrestles with the idea of contacting Jensen for days after his release from rehab is announced. Eight months without Jensen have been nothing short of emotional torture, but Jared knows he can't go back to the way things were. And yet, a part of him wonders—hopes—if he and Jensen could rekindle their relationship.

Another, darker, part wonders if Jensen would want to come back.

Jared's thoughts run in circles all day long—he's unusually quiet with his clients, to the point that he catches both Felicia and Tim shooting him worried looks when they think he's not looking, and he turns down Gen's offer of breakfast for dinner with the gang.

Instead he lays in bed, staring into the darkness until his phone lights up on the nightstand beside him. Jared sighs and grabs it, expecting it to be another text from Gen, but it's Jensen's name on the screen.

_Jay. I'm sure you saw I'm out and clean. That shit was a wakeup call and a half. I don't know if you'd be interested, but I was hoping to see you before I leave again. Let me know if you want to meet. I can clear my schedule any day up to the 7th._

Jared's heart leaps into his throat, but it's two full days before he responds.

Jared takes a deep breath as he pushes open the door to the restaurant, an old favorite of his and Jensen's from when they first moved to LA. He looks around and catches sight of Jensen in a booth near the back. When Jared slides in across from him, he looks up with hopeful eyes.

"Hi," Jensen says tentatively.

"Hi," Jared replies, unsure of what to say.

"So," Jensen exhales quickly. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem." Jared survey's Jensen's face. He's still as beautiful as ever, barring the dark circles under his eyes. "Anything in particular you wanted to discuss?"

"I...things have been hard again lately and I just realized, I really miss you. And I want you back in my life."

Jared exhales quickly. "I don't know, Jen. I've been seeing someone—"

"You're dating someone else?" Jensen's voice is practically a whisper.

"No, Jensen. I've been seeing a therapist. To help me cope with the fallout from _your_ issues." Jared regrets his choice of words as soon as he sees the hurt flash in Jensen's eyes. "I'm sorry," he sighs. "That came out way harsher than I meant it to."

"No, it's fine." Jensen won't quite meet Jared's eyes.

"Jen." Jared reaches for his hand. "I'm sorry. Really. For what it's worth, I've missed you, too."

Jensen lets Jared hold his hand briefly, squeezing once before letting go. He folds his hands under the tabletop and stares at the water glass in front of him. "Um. I," he starts, "I would really like it if we could at least be friends again."

Jared's silent for a long while, turning Jensen's words over in his mind. Honestly, he can't think of a time when they were _just_ friends—since childhood, they've been brothers, best friends, partners, lovers. It's hard to separate one from the other, but it's also been hard to separate himself from Jensen. He thinks over the past few months, the loneliness he's tried to stave off with work and art but could never quite keep at bay.

"Okay," he says, and watches Jensen's head pop up, eyes wide and earnest. He looks so much like the Jensen that Jared first fell in love with, despite the fact that he's four months older than Jared and they're a decade past that time of their lives.

"Okay?" Jensen whispers.

"Yeah. I can't promise anything, but...it's been hard for me too." Jared lets a little of his own inner turmoil surface. He'd spent a long time pushing down his own demons to help Jensen, but if they're going anywhere together it's going to have to be as a team.

"Thanks, Jay." The nickname slips easily off Jensen's tongue, his eyes shining.

"Maybe we can start with lunch?" Jared suggests. Jensen nods, and Jared signals to their waitress.

Two weeks later, Jensen embarks on his tour. It's a short one—four weeks, eight dates—at his own insistence, and Jared's pretty sure that Rich was relieved to not have to play mediator between Jensen and the promoters. After all, he had a front-row seat to everything that happened on the last tour and the subsequent fallout.

Jared's seen Jensen just once in the subsequent time since their lunch, but they've texted almost every day. He smiles to himself as he recalls their date; the sensation of Jensen's feet tangling with his under the table, the sweet, shy smiles he gave Jared. Jensen had barely glanced at the alcohol menu, but otherwise it felt so much like their first few dates that they may as well have been transported back in time.

They still click as well as ever—two halves of the same whole, their parents used to say. Jared never got it until now, when he realizes that there can't possibly be anyone on the planet that knows him as well as Jensen does. That there never has been and never will be another person like Jensen.

It's that realization which has him struggling to hold back, to take things slowly. He'd watched Jensen cut his steak with fork and knife held deftly and thought of the times Jensen skimmed his talented fingers over his body, wringing pleasure from every nerve. Jensen's eyes, soulful and deep, so often shining with a light for Jared and Jared alone. His mouth, that clever mouth that wrapped around his dick and coaxed the sweetest orgasms from his body.

It's those thoughts that him plunging his hand inside his own shorts, fingers bumping over the ridges and veins of his hard cock. Images flash through his mind, from their first time together all the way through the condo with its floor-to-ceiling windows and the hotels they stayed in together while on tour.

Jared comes with a fist in his mouth to stifle his cry, and lays sticky and panting afterward, before texting Jensen _I miss you_.

Every single show on Jensen's tour is met with rave reviews, from the industry reporters to the fans who line up to snap photos with him afterward. Jensen looks healthy and happy in each and every photo, and Jared can't wait to get his hands on him again. His heart blooms with excitement to keep seeing the happy Jensen he knows and loves so much. One of his greatest fears had been Jensen falling back into his old habits on this tour, but it seems that Rich and the band are on board with helping Jensen out. The selfies Jensen sends are from restaurants, not bars, and Jared rarely spots more than a bottle or two of beer on the tables in front of Jensen's bandmates.

It's a good feeling.

Jensen returns from his tour on a Tuesday, Jared's usual day off, and Jared would be lying if he said he hadn't spent most of the day waiting for Jensen to call.

"I'm so glad to be back," is the first thing he says when Jared picks up.

"Long month?"

"You have no idea," he says. Jared smiles, and Jensen continues, "Do you think you maybe want to come over for a little while?"

Jared doesn't respond for a moment and Jensen rushes on, "Just for like, pizza and a movie. Nothing else, I swear."

Jared contemplates for a moment. "What if...what if I wanted something else?" His voice slides husky toward the end, making his meaning unmistakable.

"Um—really?" Jensen's voice is tentative, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Jared replies. "Yeah, I think I wanna see you."

"Okay," Jensen breathes.

"But I want you to come over here," Jared adds, remembering the last time he was in the condo.

"I can do that," Jensen says. "Be there in twenty?"

"Pizza will be on the way," Jared says by way of goodbye.

Jensen shows up exactly twenty minutes later, grinning, in worn jeans and a black tee. It's his unofficial high school uniform—what he wore when they first kissed and the outfit Jared stripped him of when they first had sex—and it steals Jared's breath away for a second. He has no problem inviting Jensen into his apartment. Though it's on the small side, it suits him well enough and he's fortunate to make enough money off of his tattooing now that he can afford to live alone, which isn't the case for many people in this area, no matter how small the space. Plus, he's sold a couple paintings recently, which has been a nice ego boost on top of the income.

He gives Jensen a quick tour—it's really just the living room and kitchen off the entrance with his bedroom and bathroom tucked away in the back—and they settle on the couch with a pair of sodas between them.

"Holy crap, this couch is comfy," Jensen says as he reclines into it, sinking into the leather.

"IKEA, baby," Jared says with a grin as he takes a sip of his soda.

"Ugh, you were always the wizard of finding awesome cheap furniture."

Jared smiles again and opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by the buzzer that can only herald the pizza delivery.

When he settles back on the couch with two pies in hand, Jensen's already got _Zoolander_ cued up on the TV, and Jared can't help smiling again. Everything seems so easy tonight, just like their younger days.

They demolish an entire pie and part of the second while they watch the movie, cracking each other up as they quote along. When they reach the part where Derek works his magic on Matilda's hair in the doorway of his apartment, Jensen reaches over to pretend to do the same thing to Jared's hair.

"Your hair is so long now," Jensen says.

"That happens when you don't bother cutting it," Jared responds with his easy sarcasm. Jensen just smiles and reaches out again to touch it, pushing back a piece falling over Jared's eye.

The movie keeps playing in the background but neither of them pay attention to it. They're entirely focused on each other: eyes locked as they lean closer together until Jared reaches out to grab Jensen by the waist and tugs him onto his lap. Jensen's knees straddle Jared's hips, his ass firmly planted on Jared's thighs, and it's like puzzle pieces slotting together again.

"Come here," Jared whispers, and draws Jensen forward for a deep kiss.

They last four more dates before they end up tangled in Jared's bed, Jensen kissing the inside of Jared's thigh as he twists three fingers inside him.

"God, Jensen, fuck me already," Jared begs. He could come from this alone—and has plenty of times, Jensen's fingers are as skilled at playing him as they are with a piano—but tonight he desperately wants Jensen inside him.

"Shh, babe," Jensen soothes as he leans up to kiss Jared and nip at his bottom lip before pulling away. He sits back on his heels and rips open the condom packet, fumbling it slightly in his haste to roll it down over his cock. When he leans over and pushes into Jared, it's with a devilish grin that has Jared breathless with anticipation.

"Move back in with me," Jensen blurts the next morning in Jared's kitchen.

Jared raises an eyebrow. "Now I know you haven't had your usual two cups yet, so I'm not sure I should take anything you say right now seriously."

"I _am_ serious, you jerk. Move in with me." Jensen sets down his mug, leaning against the counter. Jared can't deny the little thrill that zips up his spine at the thought of living together again, seeing him like this every morning, sleep-rumpled and warm.

"I...if we do this, it can't be at the condo."

"Why—oh." Jensen gets it almost immediately, and a shadow crosses over his face. "Um, maybe we can find another place? Somewhere together that we both like?"

"Maybe," Jared concedes. He steps forward to place a soft kiss on Jensen's lips. "Let me think about it, okay?"

Jensen seems to wilt a little at that, and Jared holds him steady at the waist. "Hey. It's not that I don't want to—I just don't want to fuck anything up, you get me? This is new for both of us."

Jensen bites his lip, but he nods all the same. Jared kisses him again. He doesn't want Jensen to think it's something he did or something bad about him, but he's gotten used to being on his own and this _is_ all new—almost like dating for the first time, except for the part where they have an entire lifetime of history.

After Jensen leaves for the day, it takes all of six hours for Jared to say yes.


	4. Chapter 4

Rich tries to push them into buying a house for security purposes, but neither Jensen or Jared are interested in the extravagance of most homes for sale in the area, the thought of buying property together so soon notwithstanding. They choose another condo in a high-rise in North Hollywood, convenient for both of them and secure enough to keep Rich satisfied. This one is bigger than the former one, too, three bedrooms meaning each of them have a dedicated creative space, and a beautiful open-plan living room and kitchen that open to a wide balcony. It's a little more modern than Jared's tastes usually run, with all the sleek chrome appliances and clean lines, but Jensen assures him that once they're all moved in it won't feel so stuffy.

Jensen immediately takes to the balcony for songwriting. He soundproofs the den as best he can, but it's not perfect and Jared can sometimes hear him plinking on the keys, tapping out staccato melodies and occasionally cursing until the notes flow properly. On the balcony, he'll sit for hours with his notebook, gazing out over the terracotta rooftops and power lines of the city below them. Sometimes Jared will join him, bringing dinner outside or sketching new flash for his collection, which is admittedly impressive now. Jensen keeps asking when Jared's going to open his own tattoo studio, but Jared's content to keep working with Tim and Felicia, their partnership nearing the three-year mark.

One night over dinner, Jensen reveals that he's probably going to head out on another tour soon. "A longer one, like the one I did with the Europe and Australia dates," he says, holding his forkful of pasta aloft before sticking it in his mouth.

Jared's conflicted. On one hand—great, this means Jensen's career is still holding steady, he's doing the things he wants to do—and on the other, he's worried about what happened during his first two tours. On a third hand, he had his eight shows already and he did just fine. He chews on his lip ring before saying, "How long?"

"Probably three or four months. Not quite as intense as that first really long one."

Jared nods. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed that they only just moved in a few weeks ago, and already Jensen's talking about leaving to tour. _It's not just him,_ he reminds himself _, it's for his career._ "I'm not jazzed about saying goodbye to you again so soon," he admits, "but I know it's what you gotta do."

"Jared." Jensen lays down his fork and takes one of Jared's hands in his. "It's what I _want_ to do. I want to get back out there. I love what we have here—I love writing and composing—but I want to get back out there and see people react in real time."

Jared forces a smile. "I know, babe." He leans forward and kisses Jensen, and then Jensen's off making plans the next day.

Jensen kicks off his tour right in LA three months later, on an overcast January day. Jared stands in the VIP area with several of Jensen's new friends and industry contacts, watching Jensen's fingers dance across the piano keys. The smile on Jensen's face, even through his concentration, is worth all of the frustration. When the show ends, Jensen finds Jared and drags him to the rooftop of the venue where they watch the clouds move across the sky in the moonlight until Jensen has to leave for their overnight trip to the next city.

Jared sleeps alone that night, but he's not lonely.

Jared's first appointment the day after the show is a girl who'd asked for a giant jewel set into an ornate heart-shaped frame at her throat. It's probably going to take the better part of the day, but he's looking forward to this request. He's bookmarked some Victorian scrollwork and painting frames on his tablet for inspiration, and they put their heads together to make sure she's happy with it before Jared starts drawing.

Once they decide on the final style, Jared arranges her on the table and takes his marker to her chest, sketching for size and shape before going back and adding detail. He gets a prickle at the back of his neck every so often, thinking she's watching him more closely than most clients usually do, but he chalks it up the fact that he's working on a sensitive area.

Even after he starts in on the actual tattoo, he can't shake the slightly unsettled feeling she gives him. The girl doesn't really talk while he works, other than to respond when he checks in on her well-being, and he takes the silence in stride. He can hear Tim's machine buzzing across the room on his own quiet client, and the background music fills in the rest.

He calls for a break after about an hour and a half, when it's mostly finished but he wants a chance to rest his hand before doing the final details and adding in the white ink highlights, and the girl sits up on the table so she can check her phone and get a drink of water.

Jared strips off his gloves and checks his own phone, then dons a new pair of gloves and re-settles his work station with the white ink pot. He's just got it filled when Felicia walks in, squealing Jared's name as soon as she sees him.

She immediately pops over to inspect Jared's work after dropping her bag at her own station. "Damn, girl," she says as she peers at the client's chest, "That is some awesome work. You picked a good one."

"Thanks," the girl says, blushing slightly.

"'Lish, what do you have today?" Tim's voice sounds from the back of the room.

"Four o'clock, got a guy who wants the Millennium Falcon on his back," she says with a smirk.

Jared snorts and she retaliates, "Don't hate. You know you love it."

"Uh huh," he mutters, and she barrels on with, "Oh, hey, how'd the show go?"

He hears Tim mutter, "Oh, good, here we go," and Jared just grins.

"It was really good. Jensen still loves the stage, that much hasn't changed."

Felicia snorts. "That boy never met a spotlight he didn't love, seems like."

"Yeah, Jensen's a little " Jared agrees, smiling a little. "I'll tell you all about it later." He turns back to his client, who's looking at him with a look of confusion mixed with recognition on her face. "Are you talking about Jensen Ackles?"

"Uh, yeah," Jared says, surprised. "He's my boyfriend."

"Shit, I thought you looked familiar. I was at the show last night."

"Oh, cool." Jared stumbles a little over his words. "What'd you think?"

"It was _awesome_ ," she breathes. "Hey, how would you feel about tattooing some of his lyrics on someone?"

"Um," Jared starts, blindsided by the question. "I don't really do text. But maybe your interpretation of the lyrics through a symbol or picture?" He unconsciously shifts his left arm, pushing his shirtsleeve down a little to cover the word _better_ inked below his elbow. No need to give anyone else ideas, although he's pretty sure he'll always be the only person to ever be tattooed by Jensen himself.

After the first few shows, Jared relaxes considerably. Rich and the band are one hundred percent in support of Jensen, almost unconsciously keeping away from those lines that shouldn't be crossed. In every snap Jensen sends, in every text message they send, in every phone call they share, Jensen is upbeat, especially as the Grammy Awards ceremony is drawing closer. He hadn't put much thought into his three nominations back in November, but in the days leading up to the event it's clear that Jensen's a favorite to win and the excitement is rubbing off on him.

Jared hosts a mini awards party in the condo—really it's just an excuse for Gen, Katie, and Aldis to come over and watch. Gen squeezes Jared's arm when Jensen loses the Best Pop Vocal Album award, but all of them are vindicated when he takes the awards for Song of the Year, for "Million Dollar Man," and Album of the Year. Jared's so busy sending Jensen a text message during his second acceptance speech that he almost misses Jensen saying, "It feels strange to say thank you for this—for celebrating something that happened during such a dark time in my life. But without darkness, we'd never know light, and I'm lucky enough to know someone who has an awful lot of light to share. This is for you, Jared."

He raises the statue high and the applause is thunderous.

The next two months seem to zip by. Jared's days are filled with sketches and tattoos, phone calls and texts with Jensen, laughter with his friends and family. He's surprised when a client of his posts an Instagram photo of the wildflower bouquet Jared tattooed for her and suddenly Jared's days are booked solid. Gen laughs at him and says, "Man, I thought you knew who Lauren Cohan was. Do you even follow news about the town you live in?"

The day before Jensen's due to come back, Jared's last appointment of the day run almost an hour overtime and he still has errands to run. He yawns his way through an In-N-Out burger on the way home and decides to crash for the night instead of cleaning the condo—he can always get up early for that. As soon as he's unpacked all his bags Jared heads straight for the bedroom, stripping out of his jacket and shirts on the way.

He stops short in the doorway because in his bedroom, stretched out on their bed, is Jensen, wearing the most shit-eating grin Jared's ever seen on him.

Jared rubs his eyes with his shirt but Jensen's still there when he reopens them.

"I'm back," Jensen says unnecessarily, eyes flicking up and down Jared's body. "Welcome home to _me._ "

This time around Jared makes it a point to relax about the little things. He makes the bed just the way he likes it when Jensen forgets to, he fills the dishwasher, and he puts the toilet seat down when he's in the bathroom, but he doesn't stress about them as much. Jensen seems to be trying, too—he does his laundry without complaint and even picks up rudimentary cooking again. In fact, Jared notices, Jensen has hardly voiced any frustrations in the month since he's been home. It's not that he was ever a particularly irritable person, but in contrast with the last time Jensen returned to their home from months away, he's downright gleeful on a daily basis.

Jared manages to drop his shampoo bottle while lost in thought and just because it's his luck, the cap shatters right off and he loses the entire damn bottle down the drain after hurriedly scooping up what he could to wash his hair. After he's dry and clothed he roots around under the bathroom sink, hoping they have another bottle of shampoo so he doesn't have to run to the store that day—he had plans to stay in the condo all day and relax, damnit—and his fingers close around something cool and decidedly glassy. He carefully lifts the bottle out, and can't quite believe that he's holding a bottle of Chopin vodka, mostly empty with just a couple shots' worth swirling around in the bottom. He has no idea where it came from, can't recall anyone bringing over a bottle of vodka as a housewarming present—and he'd hope that most of their friends know better, anyway—and a cold shiver slides down his spine.

He reaches for the very back of the cabinet, half-dreading what he might find. He's relieved that there isn't anything else in the bathroom, but a nagging sense of dread has him wondering what else might be hidden around the apartment. Jared carefully places the bottle of Chopin back in the cabinet and walks out to the balcony, leaning over Jensen and dropping a kiss on his lips as casually as he can manage.

"Mmm," Jensen smiles, and Jared's a little glad his eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses so he can't see if they're glassy with drink or not. "What brought that on?"

Jared shrugs a shoulder. "Just 'cause. You gonna be out here a while?"

"Yeah." Jensen looks back at his notebook. "Trying to finish this song before I come back inside. Dunno how well that's going to work out," he says, making a face.

"I'm sure it'll be great," Jared says without conviction, his mind already cataloguing other areas of the apartment to check. "I'll leave you to it. See you inside."

Once back inside, Jared heads straight for the bedroom and drops to his knees to check under their bed. It's clear, but then his vision snags on Jensen's suitcase and with a feeling of dread, he hauls it out and opens it up. Sure enough, there's more than one bottle inside—whiskey, bourbon, more vodka—and they've all been opened. "Goddamnit, Jensen," Jared whispers. He hastily puts all of them away and pushes the suitcase back under the bed. He needs time to think.

"Hey, Jen," he says, poking his head out the balcony door. "I'm gonna run out for a while—I need more shampoo."

"You buy more shampoo than anyone else I know," Jensen remarks mildly.

"Yeah, well, it's part of my natural charm," Jared says. "I'll be back in a while."

In actuality, he doesn't go for shampoo—although he does make a mental note to stop and pick some up on his way back—but he goes to see Gen instead. It might be too much to hope that she's awake already, but he swings by her apartment anyway, and is rewarded when she opens the door on his third knock, in pajamas and no makeup, her hair knotted from sleep. She takes one look at his face and ushers him inside.

"So what's up?" she asks, pouring coffee grounds into the basket of her industrial-sized coffee maker.

"I found alcohol in the apartment," he says without preamble. She whirls around.

"Oh, _Jared_ ," she says, and he can hear every bit of concern in her voice.

"Yeah," he replies. "The shitty thing is, I had no idea. Last time he was fucked up he got angry, hell, he got violent. And this time, he's totally normal. Like, I never would've known if I hadn't found the bottles."

"God." she sits down in her chair. "That's fucking hard."

"Yeah," he says, looking down at his spread hands. "I don't know what to do."

"I mean, he's been hiding it from you, right? Way I know you, you'd confront him about it."

"Yeah," Jared says again. "That's what I did last time, and look where it got us." She hums in sympathy and pats his knee.

"Okay, how about I shower and we go get some food?" Jared agrees and he putters around the apartment while she gets ready, forgoing makeup and tying her hair in a knot on top of her head. She pokes him in the side and says, "You better appreciate that I love you enough to go outside bareface," as she locks the door.

Ever the breakfast lover, Gen orders an entire platter of pancakes, sausage, and eggs. Jared gets a BLT, because he's not sure his stomach can handle anything else.

"So," Gen starts while they wait for their food, "what are your thoughts?"

"Ha," Jared scoffs. "What _aren't_ my thoughts right now?"

"Okay, let's break it down. We already know that you're scared—oh shut it, it's written all over your face—but I want to know: what are you scared of?"

Jared makes a face. "I thought you promised not to use your psych minor on me."

"Tough shit," she retorts. "And I'm asking as a friend, not a psychologist. Answer the question."

He hems and haws for a moment, and finally says, "I guess I'm most scared that he'll start to get angry again."

"Valid," she states. "When did Jensen start getting angry last time?"

"Pretty much right away? He didn't really have any control over his emotions."

"And now?"

"I don't know. He seemed like he was in a really good mood all the time. God, I have no idea how long he's had those bottles or how much he's been drinking and this was happening right under my nose." He buries his head in his hands.

"Hey," Gen says consolingly. She leans across the table to grip his shoulder tightly. "Obviously Jensen's been working hard to hide this, so you can't blame yourself."

"Yeah," he says, exhaling and straightening up. "Yeah," he says again with more conviction. "Okay." Gen keeps her hand on his arm while he regains his composure, just in time for their food to arrive. He stares at his BLT for a minute, wondering if it'll turn into a fortune cookie and give him some advice, until he realizes that Gen has stopped cutting her pancakes and is staring at him. She raises an eyebrow when he catches her eye and gives him an encouraging smile, so he picks up the sandwich and starts to eat.

There's so much shit swirling in his brain that he can barely taste the food, so he tries to slow down and focus on the sandwich. By the time he finishes one half, he feels a little bit better. Apparently he doesn't even need to voice that, because Gen looks at him and says, "See? Food makes everything better."

Jared huffs a laugh, and the tension surrounding their table melts away. By the end of dinner, he feels a lot more comfortable heading home to see Jensen. He doesn't know why it took Gen to help him realize it, but he's too entangled with Jensen to possibly walk away again.

Jared walks into the condo to find Jensen on the couch eating a bowl of pulled pork and barbeque sauce, and nothing else. He laughs a little because it's so classically Jensen, but sobers almost immediately.

"Why the long face, babe?" Jensen asks between bites while Jared sits in front of him.

"Jensen, I found the Chopin in the bathroom today." Jensen goes pale, but says nothing, his mouth set in a hard line. "Jen, I want to know what's going on. I thought you were doing okay."

When he doesn't get a response, he reaches out to rest one hand on Jensen's neck, rubbing his thumb over Jensen's collarbone.

"I missed it," Jensen finally says.

"Missed _what?_ " Jared asks incredulously. His frustration bubbles to the surface when Jensen stays quiet. "Do you remember what happened, before? You walked out of a show and threw a fucking bottle at my head. I saw photo after photo of you stumbling around drunk, picking fights! How could you possibly miss that?"

"Not that!" Jensen finally bursts out. "You wouldn't understand." He gets up and Jared grabs his hand to stop him from walking away. "Jared, please."

Jared lets go and Jensen turns away, facing the kitchen as he rubs a hand over his mouth. "When I was at Wonderland, there were...a few people who were in there for their third or fourth visit. I didn't want to be one of them, so I figured out how to fool everyone. The power of positivity," he laughs darkly.

"Jensen," Jared starts, but Jensen cuts him off.

"Just let me get this out, okay? I feel fine. I actually feel better than I have in years. It's not like that anymore. _I'm_ not like that anymore. Back then, things spiraled out of my control and I needed something I could count on. People are complicated. Alcohol, not so much." Jensen's mouth twists as he turns back to Jared. "It keeps me stable. And I learned my limits."

Jared recognizes the tone of finality in Jensen's voice, the conviction behind his statements. Jensen's made peace with his demons instead of going down fighting them, and Jared can't argue against that.

They collect the liquor bottles—Jensen had more stashed in the linen closet and his underwear drawer, of all places—and place them together in one cabinet in the kitchen, not hidden away but not flaunting their presence. Jared spends days, weeks, worrying about how things will change now that Jensen's secret is out in the open, but there are no drunken rages, no benders in the streets, and Jared relaxes incrementally with every passing day.

Jensen chooses to stay out of the public eye as much as possible for the rest of the year, citing his anticipated third album as the reason. It's not far from reality, but he purposely draws out the songwriting process and makes enough appearances to satisfy Rich as well as his fans in the meantime, singing at several awards shows and benefits. Rob, Mike, Billy, and Stephen still come over often, although now it's as much just to hang out as it is to actually work on music. Someone who lives above Jared and Jensen secretly films them working on the balcony, and the video sparks enough interest that they end up releasing a single song that year, one that will eventually end up on the third album.

Not long after the New Year, Jared decides he wants to do something with the mass of paintings he has in the condo as well as in storage. Jensen connects him with a gallery owner in New York City, a guy named Jeff who he met through Rich. Jeff is warm and funny and smart, and he strikes a deal with Jared to both display and sell six of his paintings. When Jared mentions that he'll be flying to New York in a few months, Tim offers to get in touch with a friend of his so Jared can get some practice with another established artist.

"Wow," Felicia says when Jared tells her. "Tim's always told me to set up my own guest spots if I'm traveling. You're something else, Padalecki." She punches him on the arm in mock-jealousy.

Jared's less and less crazy about leaving Jensen alone as the time for him to depart gets closer, but Jensen insists he go for the opportunity to work with Tim's friend Misha, if nothing else.

Much like when Jensen is gone for shows, they text almost constantly. Jensen sends him snippets of lyrics he's working on— _If you're feeling small and you can't draw a crowd, draw dicks on the wall_ , to which Jared responds _Is this really what you want your legacy to be??_ Misha and his wife Vicki have taken it upon themselves to show Jared every tourist trap in New York so Jared has countless photos to send Jensen, from 'squishing' the Statue of Liberty to selfies with enormous pieces of pizza to the tattoos he's done in Misha's cramped little studio. It's odd to be the one away and Jared's looking forward to his return home so he can make good on the promises he's been making to Jensen.

Rich calls a few days before Jared's supposed to leave New York. Jared's in the middle of dinner with Jeff, but excuses himself and catches Rich just before it goes to voicemail.

"Jared? Jared, I'm so sorry."

> _LOS ANGELES, CALIF.—Jensen Ackles, the singer-songwriter whose self-destructive habits overshadowed incredible musical talent, was found dead Saturday in his Los Angeles home. He was 27._
> 
> _Ackles first rose to fame with his debut album, "Crowded Room," whose peppy and introspective blend of piano-pop/rock made it a global hit within weeks of its release. His second album, "Sideways," written at the low point of his tumultuous relationship with lover Jared Padalecki, was a soulful, sorrowful tale of heartbreak. Ackles held two Grammy awards for his songwriting._
> 
> _But in the end, fame overshadowed talent and tabloids continually lapped up drunken jaunts, erratic stage performances, and Ackles' stint in rehab. Even after a successful completion of a twelve-week program and the rekindling of his relationship with Padalecki, when Ackles seemed to be on an upward rise, articles were carefully speculative about his next inevitable downfall._
> 
> _Los Angeles emergency services were dispatched to the singer's home late Saturday afternoon. Police confirmed a 27-year-old male was pronounced dead at the scene, before ambulance crews arrived. No cause of death has yet been identified, although foul play has been ruled out and a detective confirmed that liquor bottles and sleeping pills were found in Ackles' bedroom at the time his body was discovered. A postmortem evaluation is scheduled to be performed Monday._  
>  _-Alaina Huffman, CNN: "BREAKING: Jensen Ackles Found Dead"_  
> 

Jared feels numb. He doesn't remember how he got from his hotel to the airport, much less all the way to their home, and now, standing on the threshold, knowing what's inside—or rather, what _isn't_ —he almost can't bring himself to unlock the door. It's been less than twenty-four hours since he got the call from Rich, succeeded by calls from Jensen's parents and his own, and texts and emails from a dozen friends. He hasn't been on Facebook since he saw Jensen's name in the news sidebar.

It's a noise in the hallway that finally spurs Jared into action; he slips behind the door to avoid getting caught staring at the door by one of his neighbors.

The first thing he recognizes is the smell of _home_ —the leather furniture strewn with pillows, the dishes in the sink, the ever-present scent of canvases and paint, paper and pens. Tears prick at Jared's eyes and he drops his bags to sink ungracefully into the couch. He drags the blanket from beneath him and clings to it, succumbing to exhaustion for a few short hours.

Jared takes a deep breath as he opens the door to their bedroom. He doesn't know what he expects, but it's—it's so _normal_ looking, that just for a second Jared can believe this has all been a bad dream. But his brain catalogues the little things anyway, the ones that tell him this is reality: the comforter bunched and hanging off Jensen's side of the bed, the vague scents of alcohol and disinfectant lingering in the air.

He closes the door and dry heaves. He'll sleep on the couch.

The subsequent days pass in a haze. Jared's supposed to be in New York, at the opening of his show in Chelsea; instead Jeff is updating him by text message while Jared sits on the couch, feet tucked under himself. Jensen's parents and Megan look equally as shell-shocked, drifting around each other in Jared's home until Megan leaves to retrieve her and Jared's parents from the airport.

The funeral is beyond beautiful, but Jared barely registers the details. He spends the day in a fugue state, woodenly accepting handshakes and hugs from countless people. Gen stands with him through the entire ordeal, Aldis and Katie orbiting nearby, and Megan flanks him on the opposite side, a protective sphere as he navigates the crowd. Familiar faces pass by, somber lines etched into their expressions: Rich, the band, Jensen's tour-mates Jason Manns and Danneel Harris, even spunky little Ruth from Jensen's very first tour is there, sadness tingeing her melodic voice.

There are tissues pressed into his hands, supportive hands at his waist and shoulders, quiet words of encouragement whispered into his ear, and still Jared feels lonelier than he ever has before.

He's spent more than a week waking up every morning with knots in his back as much from grief as from sleeping on the couch. He’s been watching his feet as he moves through the bedroom, _their_ bedroom, unable to look at Jensen’s final resting spot without waves of nausea rolling through him. He's tried to distract himself with art, tried to take solace in the presence of his family, but the joy never reached his eyes. Megan was the last to leave, finally breaking down on Jared's shoulder during her last night in LA.

In a fit of anger he smashes the remaining liquor bottles, vodka and rum and glass spattering the kitchen cabinets and floor. In the morning he calls Gen and tells her he needs to move again.

> _The LA County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner has released a final report on Jensen Ackles' death this summer, ruling that the "Dark Blue" and "I'll Be Waiting" singer died of excessive alcohol consumption._
> 
> _Coroner Julian Richings issued a verdict of "death by misadventure," confirming that Ackles's blood alcohol content at the time of his death was more than five times the legal limit. Richings also addressed concerns about drugs found at the scene of Ackles' death in his public statement, stating that the sleeping pills' effects were negligible next to the alcohol levels in his system. "Toxicology reports showed no more than the expected amount of diphenhydramine HCI as ingested according to label guidelines. Regardless, the use of sleep aids and alcohol should be carefully monitored both individually as well as in combination. In this case, the unintentional consequence of such potentially fatal levels of alcohol was his sudden and unexpected death."_
> 
> _-Alaina Huffman, CNN: "Coroner: Singer Jensen Ackles Died of Alcohol Poisoning"_  
> 

> _There's one voice noticeably absent from the book: that of Jared Padalecki, Jensen's best friend, partner, and on-again, off-again lover. Jared knew Jensen better than perhaps anyone, and his refusal to speak in the intervening time says more about their relationship than words ever could._  
>  _-Gil McKinney, "Review of Dark Blue: The Jensen Ackles Story"_  
> 

Jared opens the box carefully, unsteady hand cutting a crooked line through the tape on each side. His fingers feel clumsy and stiff as he unwraps the packing paper to reveal Jensen's face staring off the slope of the cover, perfectly captured in black and white. He clutches the book tightly in one hand, tracing slowly over the lines of Jensen's jaw with the other, phantom rasp of stubble and warmth under his fingertips. Tears pinprick at the corners of Jared's eyes and the book is hastily deposited back in the box, Jared sinking into the couch and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Even a year later, he thinks sometimes that if he breathes deeply enough he can still smell Jensen in the leather.

In that instant he knows he's not ready for this, no matter how long it's been and how prepared he thinks he is—he can't relive Jensen's life yet. Not when Jensen should still be singing in front of screaming crowds, laughing with their families, standing in front of Jared with a secret smile just for him.

Jared might still be breathing, but he isn't sure he's living.

> _For Jared, whose moonlight bleeds brightly enough to illuminate even the darkest spaces._  
>  _-Jensen Ackles_  
> 


End file.
